Jones and Harkness
by Furious Dee
Summary: AU – inspired by Wodehouse's Jeeves stories. Jack Harkness is a rich, foolish and flirtatious layabout. Enter Ianto Jones, professional valet and master of subtlety. The mismatched pair becomes impossibly close, but at what cost in 1930's Wales?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Now, this is something a little different! I'm a big fan of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves books and also of the show, Jeeves and Wooster, which starred Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie. It came to me at a ridiculous time in the morning that a crossover with Ianto as the vastly intelligent, subtly sarcastic and besuited Jeeves, and Jack as the good-hearted wastrel with too much time and money known as Bertie Wooster, would be a LOT of fun to write. I'm certain Jeeves and Wooster have been paired up in a slashy manner many times in the past, given their infinitely trusting closeness and Jeeves' uncanny ability to get rid of all of Bertie's potential wives. Obviously, Jack will be the most out-of-character of the two, but I'm hoping he seems more like the Jack we know as time goes by.

The language is a small issue because I can't possibly take Jack's American accent away from him and this is 1930's Wales we're talking about. A lot of what Bertie Wooster would say are not things Jack could get away with saying, so I've kept some much-used phrases like "good lord" but ditched other terms such as "I say" and other distinctly English idioms.

Watch out for other Torchwood/Whovian hints as we go along. Reviews encouraged!

Definite spoilers for Jeeves and Wooster stories involved, including pieces of dialogue taken from the show. Possible future Torchwood spoilers._ I will be continuing my canon story, You Shouldn't Be Here, as well - don't worry!_

* * *

The razor-sharp vibrations of what felt like an electric saw sliced through each of Jack Harkness' temples in unison, and even his attempts to groan failed to make it past his raw and overused voicebox. Reaching blindly towards the bedside table, he grasped for the offending alarm clock and shoved it into the drawer below, slamming it shut and causing the fresh swing of a sledgehammer to rattle what was left of his brain.

But the ghastly noise refused to cease. Scrabbling within the clouded and musty recesses of his mind, Jack discovered a vaguely coherent realisation – it wasn't the clock at all. It was the infernal door bell.

The journey across the endless unmade wasteland of his bed had never seemed longer or more treacherous, and the infinite _miles_ to the front door were an even bigger challenge. If he had any kind of strength remaining, and if he was the type of man who picked fights with complete strangers, he may have been prepared to connect his fist with the jaw of whoever had the ungodly gall to drag him away from the sleep he so fervently craved. As it was, and after his motor skills had failed him twice attempting to open the door, standing on the other side of it was an extremely handsome and immaculately-dressed man wearing a bowler hat, a one-sided smile and an expectant look in his eyes.

Jack gawped at him and leaned his head against the open door, still feeling very much as if a stoat had entered his body through his mouth and died in his oesophagus.

Ianto assessed the situation, and on discerning that the man before him was hungover to the extent where he could no longer so much as close his mouth, he spoke first.

"I was sent by the agency, sir" he began, raising his hat politely. His deep voice and musical Welsh accent were like being surrounded by a fresh layer of cotton wool compared to the vicious ringing which indicated his arrival.

"I was given to understand that you required a valet."

Jack continued to stare almost unseeingly, wondering why the man in front of him appeared to have two heads. _Situation: desperate_ Ianto decided, and smirked knowingly at the shambolic form of his new employer.

"Very good, sir" he said, entering the flat without another word.

Jack blinked a few times, his brain very slowly catching up with the events of the morning, before he realised that the doorway was empty. Slowly filling the frame once more, he turned and sloped back towards his bedroom, greeted as he went by the well-dressed stranger.

"Late night, sir?" Ianto enquired, with a smile that bordered on the sardonic. Jack made a choking sound low in his throat that was a vague attempt at saying "perhaps a little, yes". Somehow he got the message across as Ianto nodded and slid past him.

Only then did Jack notice the state of the room – bed made, wardrobe organised, chest of drawers closed and tidied – in the space of… what… ten seconds? He frowned at the immaculately tucked sheets for a moment before yet another brutal and unrepentant sound attacked his wilting lobes. It sounded to his fragile mind like the violent murder of a stray cat, but was in fact the bubble and hiss of the sadly disused coffee machine in his kitchen followed by the tinkle of a silver spoon as Ianto mixed black pepper, cinnamon, brown sugar and a splash of Worcestershire sauce into the brew.

Jack slumped onto his sofa, quite content to finally nod off when a silver serving tray topped with a short cup of bitter-smelling brown liquid appeared in his eye line.

"If you would drink this, sir. It's a little preparation of my own invention; gentlemen have told me they find it extremely invigorating after a late evening" came a heavenly voice from above.

Jack tried to find the stranger's face as he glanced warily upwards, settling for swiping the cup with a shaking hand and knocking back the hot, sour nectar within. The concoction got to work almost immediately, and Ianto watched with restrained delight as the other man spluttered and convulsed for a mere matter of seconds before his blue eyes cleared, and he flashed his shining teeth with vigor.

"Good lord!" he cried, his dimples emerging as he beamed. Getting up with a spring in his step, Jack walked to the large mirror over the fireplace and took a good look at his own suddenly healthy-looking and bright-eyed face. "Good lord!" he repeated, spinning to grin at the other man. "You're hired!"

"Thank you, sir" Ianto replied with a short bow. "My name is Jones."

"Good lord Jones, what an extraordinary talent! Could one enquire, err…" he pointed at the cup.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm not at liberty to divulge the ingredients."

"No, no, of course. Secrets of the guild and all that."

"Precisely, sir."

"You're, err… you're Welsh, aren't you Jones?" Jack said, as if working out that fact had been a vast accomplishment.

"It's very kind of you to notice, sir" Ianto dryly replied.

"Well yes, I thought so Jones. Of course, this place is full of the Welsh."

"This _is_ Wales, sir."

"Ah, well, you say that, but I live here and I'm clearly not Welsh" Jack pointed out, wagging a finger.

"Clearly, sir" Ianto replied. Harkness was already every inch the brash American his reputation had ascribed him to be. He was untidy, he drank to excess, he blasphemed at every possible opportunity and he spoke before thinking more often than not. He was also, allegedly, a terror to the ladies with a terrible dress-sense, but Ianto could not yet comment on those elements of his personality. So when the agency suggested he might wish to 'work on' the notorious Jack Harkness, he decided to take the task as a personal challenge.

Jack got a good look at Jones as he took the cup and tray back through to the kitchen and swiftly returned everything to its rightful place. He ascertained that his new valet was firstly, very good-looking, secondly, _very_ young, and thirdly, exceedingly talented. He was clearly born to serve and took pride in it, as he did with his appearance. Jack scanned the pinstripe trousers, jet black waistcoat and jacket, black tie and crisp white shirt his valet wore, looking every inch the perfect butler.

"Right, well…" he said with a clap of his hands, dragging his eyes from Jones' body and back to his face. "I'm off to the Torchwood Club. I'll be back by six."

"Very good sir, I'll have supper waiting" Ianto replied with that one-sided smirk of his.

"Excellent, Jones" Jack said, practically skipping back to his bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

"Jackie Harkness!"

"Knobby Harper!"

Owen 'Knobby' Harper slapped his friend on the back as he entered the bar of the Torchwood Club, immediately ordering him a gin and tonic.

"How's life, you old arse?" Owen asked, tossing a few complimentary toasted almonds into his mouth.

"Excellent Knobby, as of this morning! I've got a new man" Jack grinned. Owen raised a disdainful eyebrow.

"Oh stop it Knobby, you know what I mean. A _valet_."

"Ahhh, I see. Well, it's about time somebody sorted out your shitty life. What's his name?"

"Jones."

"That shouldn't be too hard to remember in this wet, dark, pointless little country."

"If you hate it so much, why don't you move back to London?"

"You know why, Jack."

"Yes, of course… sorry."

Jack had been there for Owen when his fiancée Catherine had died quite suddenly whilst under the young Doctor Harper's care. Her family blamed him, of course, and moving away to avoid bumping into them seemed the most sensible option. Besides which the London branch of the Torchwood Club had burnt down two years ago, so there wasn't even anywhere decent to pass the time back home.

"So, are you going to try not to scare this Jones fellow away?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean, Knobby."

"Oh come on… how many valets have labelled you 'beyond help' at this point? You're engaged three times a month to different girls every time and out of your head on scotch every other night. That's not to mention your aunts getting you into trouble at every turn!"

"Yes, well…" Jack thrust his chin out defiantly. "The drinking is my own doing, but everything else is usually through a series of misunderstandings over which I have no control. Besides which, Jones came to ME, so he must know of my…"

"Notoriety?"

Jack scowled at him. "_Reputation."_

"Your _reputation_ is its own person, along with your ego."

"Yes, thank you Knobby, for making me realise that having lunch with my dreaded Aunt Alice isn't all that bad in comparison to sitting here and letting you insult me all afternoon" Jack curtly said, finishing his drink and spinning on his heel as he left the club with Owen's laughter ringing in his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Since this was already written and I'm feeling exceptionally generous, you can have it now! I had a great response to the first chapter, LOADS of favourites and subscriptions, but could I beg for a few more reviews? I'd love to know what my readers really think of this idea.

So, we meet a few more characters today, and learn more about Jack. I'm introducing Gwen as being based on Honoria Glossop, who is a great comic character and generally quite terrifying to Bertie. I feel I should add that just because I cast Gwen in this role, it's no reflection on how I feel about her as a Torchwood character - I happen to _love_ Gwen, and in this story she is essentially Honoria in everything but name. It simply seemed fitting, but I don't want anybody thinking this is 'Gwen-bashing'. It really isn't.

We also see the introduction of Jack's coat. This being set in the mid-30's, his actual coat wasn't going to work, and as a lazy toff he was _never_ going to have been in the services. So I improvised. Enjoy!

* * *

Jack sat at the lace-topped little table, placing another tasteless steamed potato into his mouth with what he prayed was a polite artistry. He felt his aunt's beady blue eyes on him every few seconds, mentally preparing himself for the offensive onslaught he was about to endure. The concepts of fun and freedom were at once new and freakish to Alice Harkness, and her persistent attempts to rain on Jack's everlasting parade became increasingly severe the more Jack resisted them.

Finally, his aunt placed down her knife and fork and with a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to continue his outrageously bland lunch, Jack followed suit.

"Jackie…"

"Aunt Alice."

"It is young men like you who make a person with the future of the race at heart despair."

_Well… that could have been worse._

"Oh. Right." Jack replied, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"Cursed with too much money, you do nothing but waste your time with frivolous pleasures. You are simply an antisocial animal. A drone!" she continued. "Jackie, you must marry."

And there it was. Jack was suddenly attentive, and he couldn't help but burst out with a short, nervous laugh.

"Oh lord, really, Aunt Alice!" he scoffed.

"Will you be quiet!" his aunt commanded, her cheeks turning an odd shade of mauve. "You want someone… strong, self-reliant and sensible."

"No I don't" Jack mumbled.

"To counteract the deficiencies of your own character! And by great good fortune, I have found the very girl."

"Oh?" Jack said tentatively. "Who's that then?"

"Sir Geraint Cooper's daughter, Gwen."

Instantly struck by a terrific fear, Jack rose from his chair with a frantic cry of "NO!"

"Don't be silly, Jackie! Sit down and eat your luncheon!"

Jack sat, a profound sulk distorting his handsome face. His aunt tutted at him.

"She will _mould_ you."

"I don't want to be moulded, I'm not a jelly!" Jack said, exasperated.

"That is a matter of opinion" Aunt Alice muttered, and Jack's sulk intensified.

"Lady Cooper has very kindly agreed for you to visit Ystradgynlais Hall this afternoon."

Jack's panicked mind worked quickly. "I can't possibly do this afternoon, I've got a damned important engagement" he nodded.

"Don't swear, Jackie!" his aunt cried with horror, making Jack shrink in his chair. "You will go to Ystradgynlais Hall" she nodded decisively. "And I beg you _not_ to take that _revolting_ coat with you."

"It's a classic!" Jack argued. He didn't go anywhere without his heavyweight late-1800's woollen frock coat. It was warm, comfortable and an antique, and he studiously ignored comments on its unfashionable length, worn appearance, and the condescending questioning of whether he actually realised that this was the twentieth century.

"It's foul, and if I ever get my hands on it, I shall burn it" his aunt said with an alarming degree of authority.

* * *

Jack openly pouted all the way back to his flat, to the extent where his taxi driver was moved to ask whether the wind had changed and forced his face to stick that way. His only reason for bothering to school his features back into something sociable was that he had to prove Knobby and all those other nonbelievers down at the club, who apparently thought so little of him, that he could keep Jones on his side. And that meant not taking his bad mood out on the man.

And so it was that as he opened the kitchen door to find Ianto jacketless and ironing a pair of his trousers, he forced a beaming smile onto his face as he greeted his new valet.

"Ahh Jones, we'll be travelling down to Ystradgynlais this afternoon" he declared, peering over Ianto's shoulder as he worked.

"Very good, sir" Ianto replied, "will we be taking the train?"

"The train, yes. People by the name of Cooper."

"Would that be Sir Geraint Cooper, sir?" Ianto enquired. Jack was only mildly surprised that the man knew such details already.

"That's the one" he grinned.

"Which suit will you wear, sir?"

"Oh… err, this one I should think" Jack said, indicating towards his current outfit.

Ianto turned and carefully surveyed his appearance before pursing his lips and continuing to iron.

"Very good, sir" he said disapprovingly. Jack frowned at the back of his head.

"Don't you like this suit, Jones?" he asked, a small amount of hurt seeping into his voice.

"Oh yes, sir" Ianto replied in an exaggeratedly compliant voice.

Jack sighed heavily. "_What_ don't you like about this suit, Jones?"

Ianto turned to him once again. "It's a very _nice_ suit sir, but if we are to travel by train, perhaps a simple navy Harris Tweed such as this might be more appropriate?" he plucked a perfectly-pressed jacket seemingly from nowhere and offered it to his employer.

"Nonsense!" Jack retorted. "I'm not a complete ass Jones, I think I can dress myself!"

Ianto raised a bold eyebrow at him and if Jack was a different sort of man, he might have reminded his valet at that point who gave the orders in this relationship.

"If you say so, sir" Ianto replied in a tone that positively dripped with sarcasm, and watched as Jack left the kitchen with a derisive snort.

* * *

Jack stepped onto the platform at Ystradgynlais with a profound sense of dread, though the concept of having Jones ghosting him at all times was oddly comforting. He felt slightly less like he was floundering in a bottomless lake with a sensible intellectual at his beck and call, and checked his appearance in the train window's reflection. Alright, so the Tweed did look extremely snappy, he thought as he adjusted his matching fedora that seemed to make his eyes pop an extremely bright blue, but it had been _entirely _his own decision to wear it and had nothing at all to do with Jones's opinions on the matter. In fact, he had been meaning to speak with him about that.

"Now look here, Jones" he began, turning to his companion who raised his eyebrows expectantly, "I have to make one thing crystal clear."

"Yes sir?"

"I am _not_ one of those fellows who becomes an absolutely _slave_ to his valet" he enthused.

"No, sir!" Ianto replied, as if the very idea was intolerable and offensive.

"Yes, well…" Jack glanced sideways at him, not quite able to tell whether he was being mocked, "as long as we understand each other."

"Perfectly, sir" Ianto smiled in an entirely subservient manner, and followed his employer through the station.

* * *

Ystradgynlais Hall was vast and intimidating, and half an hour into his visit Jack had managed to stealthily avoid both Gwen and Sir Geraint, entrapped only by Lady Mary whose nervous disposition had Jack running for the sanctuary of the surrounding gardens. Walking alone, he reflected mostly on his new valet (anything to distract from the horrors of having to see Gwen Cooper, notorious nutcracker and far too similar in persona to his aunt Alice for comfort), and why such an obscenely bright, attractive and well-spoken young man had taken a job like this. He clearly wasn't new to it; he was either extremely well trained or he had experience in roles of servitude, but it almost seemed a waste.

Still, he wasn't about to complain about having young Jones at hand when required. Those sky-blue eyes were damned distracting though.

A golf ball whizzing past his head at a dangerously close proximity roused Jack from his reverie and he glanced around him with narrowed eyes, realising there was a stoutish man not so far away from him, hitting balls in any direction he pleased.

"Hey, steady on!" he called. The other man looked up with a frown, and Jack scrabbled to place his face.

"Watch where you're walking!" a thick Welsh accent called.

"Hang on, is that… Jingo Williams?" Jack said with a fresh bout of realisation, walking towards the figure who straightened on his approach.

"Yes. That's not… Jackie Harkness?"

"It is!" Jack beamed, and his old friend's manner changed entirely as his face split into a grin and he welcomed Jack with an overly-masculine hug.

Rhys 'Jingo' Williams beamed up at him with an expression that could only be called _endearingly dopey_.

"What in hell are you doing out here?" Jack asked, watching in awe as Rhys cracked off another golf ball that went flying through a greenhouse window.

"Me? I live here now, in the country I mean" Rhys replied with some resentment. "Visiting the Coopers for something to do. Lady Mary is a great friend of my mother's. What about you?"

"Oh, my aunt Alice is trying to match me up with the Cooper girl, I keep telling her I-"

Rhys suddenly stopped putting and looked tremendously pained, as if constipated.

"Oh Jackie, I worship her, I worship the very ground she treads on!" Rhys enthused, his eyes filled with stars as he swiftly lost interest in his one-man match.

Jack stared at him, agog. "We are talking about the same Cooper girl, aren't we?" he asked.

"There is only one!" Rhys snapped. "Gwen's strong and upright and _wonderful_."

Jack snorted. "Well, that's a matter of… wait a minute, have you told her?"

Rhys looked as if such an idea had never occurred to him.

"Of course not! Haven't got the nerve. But we walk together in the gardens most evenings and it sometimes seems to me that there's a _look_ in her eyes…" Rhys said dreamily, swinging his golf club at nothing.

"Yes, I know that look… like a sergeant major" Jack muttered, shuddering.

"Anyway, she won't look twice at me if you're here to steal her away" Rhys sighed, using his club like a walking stick as he began to stroll towards the house.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, following him with a frown.

"Come off it Jackie, you have a new fiancée every couple of weeks and you're devastatingly handsome, everyone knows it!"

Jack allowed himself a brief moment of smugness before returning his attention to his Jingo's plight.

"Well yes, but… Jingo, you've got so much more to offer her! She couldn't have a normal life with me, you know? She has this… strange hero-worship attitude towards me and at the same time, longs to domesticize me. It would never work."

"You do realise people are starting to wonder about you" Rhys said suddenly, glancing at Jack with displeasure before turning away.

"Wondering _what_?" Jack warily asked. _Has there ever been a time when I wasn't the subject of gossip?_

"Well… you run through women as if they're socks, you never commit, but you treat your closest _male_ friends as if you're married to them."

"I do nothing of the kind!" Jack bristled.

"Oh no? You and Tarty Hart were inseparable, once! And then there was Doc Smith… the mighty Jack Harkness followed him around like a lost puppy before he abandoned you!"

Rhys had struck a nerve and he knew it. Jack looked as if he wanted to take the club from him and wrap it around his throat, so Rhys raised his hands in surrender.

"Jackie, don't get me wrong, I really don't care what you do behind closed doors but your reputation is at stake here."

"No, it isn't" Jack firmly replied. "If you're implying what I think you are, then you're very much mistaken. And even if it was true, it's in the past. I just… enjoy my bachelorhood, that's all! I don't want to be tied down just yet!"

"Alright Jackie, I _do_ believe you old fruit, honestly I do" Rhys told him sincerely, letting it lie for now. "It's just lucky for you none of your valets have ever been young and handsome, that could spawn all sorts of rumours…"

Before Jack could fully force his brain to engage, Ianto stepped out of the open French windows directly in front of them, making Jack realise he had somehow been led all the way to the patio outside the main living room.

"Miss Gwen Cooper is awaiting your company, sir" he told Jack in his calm and level voice, and Jack didn't have to look at Rhys to know he was smirking with the hideous irony of his last statement.

"Yes, thank you Jones, this is Jingo Williams, old friend of mine" Jack muttered, and watched him bow courteously. "Jingo, this is… my new valet, Jones."

Glancing into the vast room before him Jack spotted a young dark-haired woman reclining on a velveteen chaise, who on noticing him looking, beamed with a gap-toothed grin and waved maniacally.

"JACKIE!" she cried, beckoning him inside – and as Jack sloped to greet her, he vowed to bring Gwen and Jingo together before he left this place. They deserved each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

First, a _massive_ thank you to everybody who's been favouriting, subscribing, but most of all reviewing. Reviews are love. 3 Speaking of which, allow me to direct you to my canon story, You Shouldn't Be Here, the last chapter of which has been depressingly overlooked even though it's filled with lovely slash. Unless you're all opposed to slash. Which I find hard to believe. Reviews for that story also DEEPLY appreciated - it's a hard one to write and I'm losing the enthusiasm to continue it. Encourage me!

Back to Jones and Harkness. Jack gets himself into a spot of bother and it doesn't look as if he's going to get any help from Ianto. I'd like to say again that Gwen's character in this story is in no way a reflection of my opinion of her. She's based on the Wodehouse character of Honoria Glossop. I won't stand for Gwen-bashing.

* * *

"Now look here Gwen…"

"Yes?" Gwen prompted, her hand curled around Jack's bicep as they strolled along the stream that ran through the Cooper estate.

"Well…" Jack hesitated, made tense by her close proximity. "There's somebody here, staying at Ystradgynlais Hall I mean, who is terrifically in love with you. A good friend of mine, in fact." Lord, why didn't Jingo just pluck up the nerve to do this himself? Jack had invited her for a walk the minute she patted the space next to her on the chaise, turning on his most dazzling smile as he did. He _had_ to ward her off, Aunt Alice be damned.

Gwen's olive eyes lit up and locked onto Jack's chiselled face.

"Well why doesn't he say so?" she purred.

"Simply hasn't got the nerve" Jack explained. "Worships you completely, but lacks the courage to say so!"

"This is all very interesting" Gwen smirked, holding Jack's arm a little tighter.

"Isn't it! So, that's the situation… any thoughts?"

Gwen halted their ramble and laughed, punching Jack's arm with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Oh Jackie, how funny you are, proposing to me in such a roundabout way!"

Jack would swear that at that very moment, his blood had been replaced with ice-cold tonic water.

"_What_?"

"Mammy said you were keen, she told me your aunt Alice had sent you, and I said 'well he's never shown any interest before', and she said 'his aunt Alice said he positively _pines_ for you', and I wasn't sure if I believed it, but here you are with all your awkward charm, telling me you love me!"

Jack gawped into her beaming face, his vanity slightly wounded by the concept of seeming awkward, but it was overrun by paralysing fear. Fear that he had just become engaged to Gwen Cooper.

"Now go on back up to the house while I tell mammy and father, they'll be thrilled" she said, adding a commanding "go on!" when Jack showed no signs of moving.

Realising he did in fact have legs, Jack turned and belted his way to his bedroom at Ystradgynlais Hall, where he found that Ianto was still meticulously putting away his clothes.

"Don't bother Jones, we're not staying. In fact we're leaving… NOW" Jack panted, whipping a handkerchief from his pocket and using it to dab his sweating forehead.

"Now, sir?" Ianto repeated, standing with a frown. "Did something untoward occur?"

"Yes, EXTREMELY untoward! I'm engaged to _Gwen Cooper_" he choked, his sense of fright continuing to rise.

Ianto raised his eyebrows just for a second, before his impassive mask slid back into place.

"I'm very happy for you, sir" he said in a low, flat tone.

"Well I'm not! We have to get out of here, Jones!" Jack cried, noticing then that Ianto's eyes had moved from his terrified face to the handkerchief in his hand.

"What now?" he asked.

"Nothing sir, it's just… there appears to be some kind of writing there" he pointed to the corner of the fabric with no small amount of condescension.

"Yes, J.H. – Jack Harkness."

"Are you in danger of forgetting your name, sir?"

Jack sighed heavily with a roll of his eyes. "For god's sake Jones, my monogrammed hankies are of no concern right now! Besides which, I happen to think they're snazzy."

"Of course you do sir."

Jack scowled at him. "Do you have no regard for my mortal wellbeing, Jones? Some valet you are!"

Ianto straightened himself and raised his chin. "Your wellbeing is my every interest sir, but I'm not sure what service you require me to perform to rid you of this new attachment."

"I say again: some valet you are" Jack grumbled.

The truth of it was that Ianto Jones already knew precisely how to prise Jack Harkness from the stranglehold of an engagement to Gwen Cooper, but he wasn't a man to vocalise his own genius. He preferred to approach all aspects of life with a quiet and calculated care which negated the need to show off in the manner of a certain emotionally-animated American.

Ianto couldn't deny that he'd found himself already fascinated by his new employer. Not that he was particularly well acquainted with Americans, but he was unlike any man he'd met before. He had talked incessantly throughout the train journey from Cardiff and Ianto had learnt that not only did he unapologetically speak his mind, but he also had many unusual passions which were rarely vocalised aloud by the average gentleman. He had an undeniable charm about him and his style, whilst requiring a little guidance, was undeniably his own. Ianto had to respect that.

"If there's nothing else, sir…"

"No no, it looks like I'll have to get out of this myself" Jack sulked, dropping unceremoniously into the armchair in the corner of the room and staring with utter listlessness out of the window.

Ianto smiled and plucked the discarded handkerchief from the mantle where Jack dropped it, tucking it into his pocket and leaving the room.

* * *

Predictably by dinner time, the entire house was aware of the news, including every single member of staff, each of the dogs, and whatever squirrels happened to be within a mile of Gwen Cooper that afternoon. Jingo was silently glaring at Jack across the dining table with his shoulders hunched, and Jack couldn't sink into his chair any lower if he removed the seat.

Gwen was aglow as she talked of nothing but marriage, Mary kindly humouring her with an omnipresent if glazed smile as Geraint slowly succumbed to zombification.

"…don't you think so, Jackie?" Gwen's thick accent slipped into Jack's consciousness and he raised his head, blinking away the film from his eyes.

"Yes, of course" he replied with a grin that he hoped looked confident. Gwen seemed satisfied with his reply and simply continued.

It was just before Gwen retired to bed that Jack's salvation came. Gwen's personal maid bustled towards her in the corridor with a deep wrinkle in her brow and something white clutched in her hand.

"Miss Cooper! Miss Cooper… I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Lois?" Gwen asked, standing impatiently half inside her bedroom door.

"Sorry to disturb you when you're about to settle for the night Miss, but I have some distressing news about your husband-to-be…"

* * *

"Well, a fat lot of good you've been today, Jones" Jack sighed as he accepted the proffered snifter of brandy whilst slumped on the edge of his bed.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir" Ianto replied, hanging his employer's worryingly flamboyant dinner jacket in the wardrobe.

"Really Jones, you're clearly at least half brain, but you can't think of a way to get me out of this goddamned situation with Gwen?" he shook his head as he drained his glass.

"My apologies, sir."

A banshee's cry of "_JACK HARKNESS_!" followed by a succession of vicious bangs against his bedroom door startled Jack into almost being dislodged from his seat. Ianto, in comparison, looked completely unflustered.

"Shall I get that, sir?" he asked mildly.

"Yes Jones, yes… I mean no!"

But it was too late. Gwen shot into the room like a cannonball, waving a square of white cotton in Jack's face before he could blink.

"You conniving little shitbag Yank!" she cried, her wide eyes sparkling with tears.

"What the hell have I done now?" Jack asked in an unnaturally high tone, as Jones watched silently from the doorway.

"You KNOW what you've done! Lois found THIS whilst cleaning the assistant cook's _private_ quarters!"

The fabric was finally brought into focus – Jack's monogrammed handkerchief. He opened and closed his mouth slowly, trying to piece together the picture.

"Not even an excuse!" Gwen cried. "Jack Harkness, scourge of the fairer sex! I should have known! You come down here, to propose to me, all the while having a little _down time_ with the kitchen staff, is that it?"

"Wh-… what?"

"No Jackie, don't even think about it! There is absolutely no excuse for this! I want you gone first thing in the morning."

Gwen stomped off towards the door, which Ianto was helpfully holding open for her.

"Oh", she spun around once more, "and our engagement is OFF!"

And she was gone.

Jack stared directly ahead at the closed door, attempting to make sense of the story he'd been told in an admittedly hysterical manner. As it fell into place in his mind like a jigsaw, his eyes were drawn up to Ianto's subtle smirk, and suddenly he knew. Then he grinned as if the man had just saved his life. Which he had.

"Nice work, Jones" he said quietly, replaying the moment earlier where come dinner time, he'd not been able to find his handkerchief. Ianto seemed to glow under the praise, and offered a small nod.

"If you'll pardon the liberty sir, I doubted the young lady would have been entirely suitable for you" he replied.

"You are a bit of a marvel, aren't you?" Jack stood and slid his own braces down his arms, unbuttoning his shirt with a sudden air of complete lightheartedness.

"Very good of you to say so, sir. Will that be all?"

Jack turned and beamed at his new valet as he stripped himself completely of his shirt, and Ianto couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes Jones, that will be all. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir." Then the man was gone, disappearing for the night like a guardian angel.

* * *

"Well Jones, a rather eventful visit that, wouldn't you say?" Jack sighed as they boarded the train home to Cardiff.

"Very much so, sir. Mr Williams extends his thanks, by the way." Ianto replied.

"Jingo? My thanks for what?" Jack frowned.

"For successfully extricating yourself from the union with Miss Cooper, sir. It seems she was driven into his arms in her grief, and he owes you many drinks at the Torchwood Club when next he's in the city."

Jack flashed his teeth with glee. "It all turned out perfectly then. Beautiful!"

"Yes sir. He also said… this whole debacle should quieten the rumours… but he declined to elaborate further on the subject."

"Ahh yes, well… don't worry about that Jones, it's none of your concern."

Jack's smile disappeared and he focussed on the smoke rising outside of the carriage window. The news of his handkerchief being found in the quarters of a young female member of staff would throw Aunt Alice into paroxysms of horror, but the general response to the news would be the confirmation, for those who doubted it, that Jack Harkness was only interested in women.

Which he was.

Obviously.

"As for the offending handkerchief, sir" Ianto added, "I felt it necessary to burn the evidence."

Jack turned to Ianto with a sharp frown, preparing to vocalise his disapproval, but he found he couldn't be angry. Upon Ianto's face was a boyish smile of victory, and it seemed an entirely too-small reward for what he'd done for Jack, to let him destroy something he clearly loathed.

"Just this once Jones, I'm going to let that slide" his said, his grin returning with a vengeance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Pip pip, all! Thank you again for all of the wonderful favourites, subscriptions and feedback I'm receiving for this. Here we have a slightly shorter getting-to-know-you chapter, in which Jack and Ianto assess each other and Jack moves quickly onto his next potential fiancée. I think he's more like the Jack we know in this chapter. I'd love to hear if you agree - reviews make the world go round! And let me know whether it's all flowing nicely. I have so many ideas for this story, it's ridiculous.

Yet again I'm going to plug my canon Jack/Ianto story - You Shouldn't Be Here. I hear it's good.

This chapter is dedicated to wanda1969, who is possibly an even bigger Wodehouse fan than me and has been extremely encouraging. She's also generally lovely to chat to.

* * *

Ianto Jones observed his new project with the interest of a scientist over the next week in Mr Harkess's employ. The man appeared to live by a very specific pattern; rise at ten, leisurely breakfast, _long_ grooming session, leisurely lunch at the Torchwood Club, afternoon tea at the flat, murdering the piano for a while, leisurely supper, drinks at the Torchwood Club, rolling back in at 2AM – and repeat. If he didn't go to the club in the evening, he sat in his living room sipping whiskey and reading, and often invited Ianto to join him.

Of course it was the role of a gentleman's personal gentleman to acquiesce to anything the gentleman required, but forming a friendship was not something obligatory or often wanted. After the fourth day, it dawned on Ianto that despite his overwhelming popularity, good looks and wealth, Jack Harkness was lonely.

Sometimes, he wondered if Jack realised he was in the room, as he slid between doorways silent as a wraith and caught the other man frowning into nothingness with a look that made his eyes look immeasurably too old for his face. Other times Jack seemed to have the hearing of a bat and his features were suitably adjusted to normality before Ianto could see through him.

For all his modesty, Ianto could never deny that he himself was incredibly astute. Penetrating Jack's front, though it took a few days, had been somewhat of a breeze – though having met a fair few of the people he associated with, he couldn't bring himself to feel surprised that none of them had seen this, or that he hadn't wanted to show them. As soon as it became clear, Ianto started looking for it seeping through, the real man behind the ego. Unfortunately for Jack, he would never have the skill to mask himself that Ianto had.

One thing Ianto noticed was that his new employer had yet to check up on any of his references, consult the agency, anything. In the times that they were alone, Jack asked him questions about HIM – how he came into this line of work (answer: "following my father, sir"), where he was from (answer: "Newport, sir"), whether he had anybody special (answer: "nobody, sir), and his opinion on absolutely everything. But previous jobs, education, even his first name – these were never mentioned.

Jack had apparently put absolute trust in Ianto already, and for that he couldn't help but feel distinctly pleased as he slid out of his Jones uniform each evening and became Ianto for the night.

* * *

If asked, Jack could pinpoint the moment he became completely reliant on Ianto to that triumphant smile of his on the train back from Ystradgynlais. The young man had a manner that made Jack feel as if he didn't have to pretend, whilst at the same time remaining afraid to let his guard down for fear of losing his new valet.

He watched him daily; quietly performing his tasks with an efficiency that would have been robotic were it not for the blatant pride he took in his role. Every time he asked the young man to stay in the living room and talk with him, he would blink slowly as if mildly startled, before nodding. Jack couldn't decide whether he didn't really want to and was just humouring him, or simply whether he wasn't used to company – particularly that of an employer.

Jack was used to keeping the help at arm's length, and if he was going to look for another valet after the last one (which he _was _planning to, he just hadn't got around to it), he was prepared to be distrustful. The last two were thieves and the one before that used Jack's flat as a gambling den whenever he was on holiday. And they had the nerve to call _him_ 'beyond help'!

Yet, this Jones fellow had wormed his way into his life with no effort whatsoever and Jack felt himself relaxing. Within a fortnight he was leaving the bathroom door open when he bathed so that he could talk to his valet about all kinds of nothing, while Ianto strolled in and out of the room performing his duties, completely unfazed. It was rare that Ianto asked him anything that wasn't to do with whether he wanted the collars of his dress shirts starched or permission to bury Jack's red braces in the park (reply: a traumatised '_NO_!'), but he didn't seem to mind his employer discussing any topic of conversation with him that sprung to mind. The man was unshockable, and a childish part of Jack took that as a personal challenge.

"I don't suppose you know of the Costello family, Jones?" Jack asked one evening as he held his wrists at chest level, Ianto fastening his tiny silver aeroplane cufflinks.

"I do, sir. Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking about the daughter, Susanna" Jack grinned, eyes and teeth sparkling as he reminisced. "Knew her a few years back. Lord, but she was a forward girl… she seemed unnervingly sweet when we first met, then as soon as we were alone, she was all over me like a springer on heat! I was thrown out of the house of course, but it was worth it for the shame I supposedly brought on the Harknesses. She could do exceedingly exotic things with her tongue…"

Ianto's impassive expression cracked momentarily, at least long enough for him to meet Jack's eye and raise a brow as he straightened his employer's collar.

"She sounds a most agreeable… _lady_, sir" he replied dryly, and Jack could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile.

"Damn it all Jones, are you _completely_ unflappable?" Jack sighed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

"I fear so, sir. Apologies for spoiling your attempts at moral corruption."

"I could think of more direct ways of corrupting you" Jack said before he allowed himself time to think about what he was saying, fixing the accompanying leer in place even as embarrassment set in. Sometimes, just sometimes, he loathed the natural flirt in him. _Save that talk for the girls_, he sternly reminded himself. _Reputation, remember?_

Ianto did that slow blink of his, before straightening his own pristine jacket and brushing a final few specks of dust from Jack's shoulders.

"Careful sir, that's harassment" he said in all seriousness, and Jack couldn't help but let out a deep belly laugh as the tension was dissolved.

"I've heard _that_ before" he smirked, before turning on his heel and heading towards the hat stand and his precious frock coat.

"Might I enquire as to where sir will be spending his evening?" Ianto asked as he stepped behind Jack and slid the heavy wool over his waiting arms. Jack smiled to himself – that was as close to a personal question as Ianto would ever ask.

"At The Hub tonight Jones, a little jazz place, with a beautiful woman draped across me if I have anything to do with it" Jack answered with no small degree of smugness. Ianto gave him an enquiring look just as he'd hoped, and he took that as permission to spill his news.

"Lady Toshiko Sato. A date with Lady Tosh, Jones!"

"An extremely gratifying situation sir, I'm sure."

"Gratifying _indeed_, Jones. This could carve a whole new path for me" Jack beamed rather cryptically, appraising himself in the mirror as he completed the look with a dark grey fedora.

He glanced at Ianto's subservient expression in the reflective glass, standing just behind his right shoulder as usual, and provided his valet with one of those American expressions that he knew the other man silently detested:

"Don't wait up!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

My eternal thanks, as ever, for all the love - especially the reviews. I heart reviews. This one is dedicated to everybody who's taken the time to click that lovely link at the bottom of the page.

In this chapter, Jack makes a bad decision regarding Lady Toshiko, and he and Ianto fall victim to a misunderstanding that threatens their relationship. For those who know the Jeeves stories and/or the show, Toshiko is based on the formidable figure of Lady Florence Craye, who is thankfully absolutely nothing like our gorgeous Tosh.

Anybody who's curious about what Jack's vintage coat looks like, this is the best visual reference I could find: www(dot)sutlers(dot)co(dot)uk(slash)acatalog(slash)RB029aNEW(dot)jpg

Imagine it blue-grey and longer. Hilariously, this style of late 19th Century double-breasted frock coat was called a _Prince Albert_. I think Torchwood Jack would have liked that. Needless to say it's horribly unfashionable in the 30's for a person of Jack's status, but it ensures he stands out, as Jack Harkness always should.

* * *

"I don't think much of jazz" Lady Toshiko Sato scorned as Jack gently ushered her petite frame towards a table for two with a clear view of the stage. He quickly gave the barman the universal signal for _bottle-of-Champers-if-you'd-be-so-kind_ before pulling Toshiko's chair from under the table in order for her to grace it with her delectable backside.

"Oh come now Toshiko, it'll be fun! Wait until this place gets jumping, you'll love it."

"I find that doubtful" his date sighed, preening the hair she insisted on keeping poker straight despite the overwhelming trend of immaculate waves. Toshiko called it an absolute refusal to look like every single tramp on the street. Jack mistakenly thought it displayed a reckless romanticism.

The evening consisted entirely of Toshiko talking about her latest book and her meetings with other mathematicians, punctuated with complaints of how loud the music was and the poor quality of the Champagne. For the most part, Jack was too busy attempting to catch a glance down the front of Toshiko's shimmering black flapper dress to listen, but his input in the 'conversation' really wasn't required. Toshiko talked, Jack pretended to pay attention, and it suited them both.

By the end of the night Jack was completely, utterly and misguidedly infatuated with a woman who had barely glanced at him all evening. Perhaps that was why, he pondered; she hadn't thrown herself at him like most of the girls, or even given him the doe-eyes. He had enormous respect for the way Toshiko didn't seem to like him at all.

By midnight he had proposed. Toshiko sighed heavily. Then she accepted.

* * *

"Jones!" Jack called, bounding through the kitchen door.

"Yes, sir?" Ianto appeared from within the pantry, a thick streak of flour highlighting one high cheekbone. Jack chuckled and stepped towards him, rubbing the mark away with his thumb in a manner befitting his usual level of intimacy with his valet.

"Flour" he explained.

"Ah, thank you sir. I was restocking the baking supplies."

"Excellent! Does that mean I can look forward to another of your spectacular coffee and walnut cakes?" Jack pleaded, attempting his most charming grin. A brief smile lit up Ianto's eyes and he nodded.

"As you wish, sir. Did you… want me for something?"

Jack struck his own forehead with the heel of his palm.

"Of course! All this talk of coffee and cake has me spinning on my head… Jones, do you know where my copy of 'The Mathematics of Success' is?"

"Would that be 'The Mathematics of Success' by Lady Toshiko Sato, sir?" Ianto asked innocently, moving seamlessly towards the sink. Jack rolled his eyes, leaning back against the kitchen table.

"Don't be facetious Jones, you know exactly who it's by! But do you know where it _is_?"

"Yes sir, it's on your bedside table."

"It's on… right. Why, exactly?"

Ianto turned to face his employer and schooled his expression into one of enormous sincerity.

"I took the liberty of flicking through the volume sir, and I thought it would make an excellent remedy for insomnia."

Jack gave him a withering look.

"None of that Jones! Lady Toshiko happens to be calling round in about… _now_… and I want to leave it strategically lying around the lounge looking… you know… well thumbed."

"Very tactful, sir."

"Yes, I thought so."

Jack stood upright again and straightened his blue matt satin jacket, heels clicking on the stone floor as he left the kitchen to retrieve his literary prop.

"Oh Jones, one more thing" he said, pivoting on the spot towards Ianto's expectant gaze.

"Sir?"

"Lady Toshiko and I are engaged." Jack announced with no further preamble.

A blank pause, then "congratulations, sir. Will a celebratory drink be required?" Ianto asked, his tone as dry as his expression.

"Jones, it's not even eleven AM" Jack frowned.

"If you'll pardon me saying sir, that doesn't usually stop you."

* * *

"Toshiko!" Jack beamed as he flung the door open. Toshiko raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Jack" she flatly replied, dodging his attempts to kiss her on the cheek. The beautiful Japanese woman took a quick unguided tour of the living area of Jack's flat before its owner had even joined her in the lounge. She stopped at the piano with a look of abject disgust.

"Were you the one making that row as I was coming up?" she demanded, pointing accusingly at the instrument.

"Me? Oh, yes, brushing up on a little ditty Knobby and I play at the club sometimes" Jack grinned, subtly grooming himself.

"I thought somebody was strangling a cat" Toshiko replied, lips pursed. "There won't be any of this musical nonsense when we're married, you know."

Jack stared at her, aghast.

"Really now, Tosh, I-"

"_Don't_ call me that" she snarled, and Jack physically shrank from the ferocity of her dark glower.

"Lady Sato, a pleasure to make your acquaintance" a smooth voice behind him suddenly said, Ianto having crept into the room in complete silence, as always. Jack wondered if he had an in-built sensor to let him know when to diffuse a situation, and cleared his throat.

"Jones, yes… Toshiko this is my man, Jones."

Toshiko openly looked Ianto up and down, as if deciding whether he was fit to be in her presence, and gave a short nod of approval. The man didn't flinch from her gaze – she had to respect that.

"Jones, how on earth do you manage to organise a man who is so horribly inept?" she asked, staring past her fiancée, whose jaw had unattractively dropped.

"Mr Harkness certainly keeps me on my toes ma'am, but I feel that to accuse him of ineptitude would be a little unfair."

"Oh?" Toshiko frowned, looking as if Ianto was the first ever to challenge her opinion.

"Indeed. Mr Harkness is a unique employer, but a no less valuable gentleman than any I've known. And without his reliance upon me, I wouldn't have the pleasure of his acquaintance."

Jack smiled despite himself, turning to look affectionately at his valet, who nodded back. That had certainly taken the bite out of Toshiko's words; Jack couldn't remember the last time anybody had defended him about _anything_. In fact, on his darker days, he was sure the entire world was against him. At that moment he had the peculiar desire to throw his arm around Ianto's shoulders and pull him close simply out of gratitude.

Toshiko looked tense as if ready to pounce like a feral cat, but instead she shook her head with a tangible air of condescension.

"Yes, well, some of Jack's _acquaintances _will change once we're married. You'll need to surround yourself with a much more respectable circle of friends you know, I have to keep my reputation absolutely intact. No piano, no singing, and absolutely _NO_ Torchwood club!"

Toshiko marched past the two men towards the door, stopping abruptly to wait for it to be opened for her.

"Right" Jack mumbled thoughtfully, before following her and letting her out into the hall.

"Right!" he repeated, forcing a sunny smile though his heart had dropped into his socks. "So…"

"You'll come round to the house tomorrow so we can discuss plans for the wedding" Toshiko informed him in a tone which broached no arguments.

"Right, yes, absolutely."

"Goodbye, Jack" she sighed as if bored of his company, not giving him another glance as she strode down the corridor away from him, her sharp heels harshly clipping the ground (which she probably believed didn't deserve to lie beneath her).

Jack suppressed his own sigh as he closed the door, his mind suddenly filled with one question: _what have I done?_

Ianto was still standing dutifully alert in the lounge, and Jack straightened his shoulders as he approached him.

"Thank you Jones, for what you said I mean" he said softly, not meeting the other man's eyes. Ianto looked at him inquisitively.

"It's part of my job, sir" he explained, and Jack's heart fell just a little further if that was possible. That stung more than what Toshiko had said, and Jack was forced to face the fact that no matter how close he and his valet had very quickly become, and how easy their relationship was, Ianto was still just that and nothing more. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, closing away that vicious pang of disappointment for now.

"So, what do you think of Mrs-Harkness-to-be?" he asked, putting on a show of false brightness as he dropped himself into his armchair.

"How honest do you wish me to be, sir?"

"Brutally, as always Jones."

"I think that forming a union with Lady Sato would be deeply unwise, sir."

Jack's head snapped around to face him with a scowl.

"Unwise, Jones? I'm a grown man; I think I can make my own decisions." He retorted.

"I'm sure you can, sir" Ianto replied in that ironic way of his that on this occasion, made Jack want to throw something at him. "But with regard to the way Lady Sato speaks to you… do you think her attitude is conducive to a contented and productive marriage, sir?"

Jack slammed down the magazine he'd been pretending to read and strode towards Ianto, attempting to use his extra inch in height to intimate whilst being intensely aware that it wasn't going to work on this man. Whether he'd just discovered that Toshiko Sato was a domineering, bullying, officious she-dragon or not, Ianto was his valet and therefore all this opinionated talk had to stop. If the other man thought of this as nothing more than a job, then he could damn well start acting like it.

"Listen here Jones, that is my fiancée you're talking about, so in future I suggest you show her the kind of respect befitting her status from now on" he informed him, fixing the man with his steel-blue gaze.

"You asked me to be honest, sir" Ianto reminded him.

"You're a valet, you're supposed to tell me what I want to hear" Jack said, waving a dismissive hand.

As he turned away from his employee, Ianto's own mask cracked slightly and a ghost of confusion swept through his eyes before it was gone again.

"As you wish, sir" he said softly, vanishing again as was his wont.

Jack fell back into his seat with a pained exhalation, picking up the magazine and hurling it across the room until it splatted against the vast lounge window, which today showed him all the greyness and cruelty of Cardiff.

"Doesn't anybody out there actually_ like_ me?" he murmured to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Forty reviews after only five chapters? You lot are _the best. _ Keep them coming, kids - I reply to all feedback and messages, and I love hearing what you think of this entire concept.

Here we have chapter six, in which our heroes are forced to talk. Except that they have the profound disadvantage of being men, and are therefore barely capable of stringing together a coherent sentence. More adventures to come!

* * *

Ianto spent the remainder of the afternoon deeply grateful for the fact that he was too busy in the kitchen to have to face his employer. _Coward_, a spiteful little voice in his head labelled him, but he was oddly disturbed by Jack's sudden change in disposition after Lady Sato had left, and he had no wish to further exacerbate the situation by loitering around the man. His professional opinion informed him that Jack needed to be left alone.

As he proceeded to meticulously buff every piece of silver he could lay his hands on, he reflected on the events of the day whilst the scent of the polish soothed him. Jack had never snapped at him like that before (although thinking about it, they hadn't been together for nearly as long as it felt), and it wasn't until he was preparing Jack's supper with a profound sense of trepidation that is dawned on him what had caused his employer to speak so harshly.

Closing his eyes, he leaned over the sink with a sigh, allowing his shoulders to sag. Of course Jack had every right to be upset… _damn it Ianto; for such a perceptive man, you can be very stupid at times._

Jack's day was equally restless. He daren't leave the flat – he wasn't feeling especially sociable – but he feared Ianto strolling in at any moment. When two hours had passed and his valet hadn't left the kitchen, Jack found himself relieved at not having to speak to him yet, and disappointed that he had made no steps towards apologising. Slinking silently to his bedroom, he opted to collapse onto the mattress and sulk over the state of a life he felt he had no control over.

His mind flitted back to the time he'd been the happiest in his life, those endless days when he was Doc Smith's companion and they experienced everything together. _Everything_. He had felt as if The Doc understood and accepted him, and although Jack sometimes wondered whether he appeared like less of a partner and more of a sidekick to the man, it didn't seem to matter. They were inseparable. Doc Smith was a complex, beautiful, infuriating genius; Jack loved the man more than he thought it was possible to love another person.

But that was before The Doc chose to leave him without a word of goodbye. One morning he was just… gone.

So Jack waited. Fruitlessly.

He'd heard about him since then, of course; the odd disjointed story about him travelling with a _new_ companion, invariably a naïve and beautiful female. For some injudicious reason his friends thought it appropriate to pass onto him any rumours regarding The Doc, clearly missing the fact that it tore him up just to hear the name. None of them knew the extent of their relationship though, and that was the way it was going to stay.

His mind dragging him back to the here and now, Jack realised with a heavy sigh that he had been dangerously close, as recently as this morning, to thinking of Ianto as more than he was. Precisely what, he wasn't sure, but certainly no less than a cherished friend who, like The Doc, seemed to accept him, no questions asked. But, as he had been reminded, that was no more than his job required.

Though the resentment continued to sting, Jack had to concede that he had lashed out unnecessarily. He'd been angry at himself as he realised that he did not, and would never, love Toshiko Sato. It wasn't Ianto's wise words about her not being right for Jack that hurt, though outwardly that was what he reacted to… but he didn't suppose Ianto would ascertain the true reason. Sighing once more, Jack summoned a little strength from nowhere and pulled himself upright, sniffing at the scent of supper in the air as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood before the cityscape in front of him.

_Come on Jack, you're a Harkness_ he told himself. _A Harkness makes the best of it._ Sucking in a deep breathe, Jack marched across his room and swung open the door wearing a false grin, just in time to see Ianto laying the little dining table and looking a little startled by his emergence.

"Good lord Jones, that smells exquisite" he enthused, avoiding his valets eye and focussing instead on the perfectly-presented meal. Plucking the pressed cotton serviette from beside his knife, he slid onto his chair and quickly laid it upon his lap, before beginning to tuck into the food with the same gusto that would have been expected of him had he been in a good mood.

Ianto, who would normally leave the room as his job warranted at such a point, stood and watched with a small frown wrinkling his normally flawless brow. Jack tried not to show how uncomfortable it was making him; he had been planning to discuss this morning's _disagreement_ once his food was consumed and digested (and he had a little whiskey in him), but clearly his valet wasn't going to allow that.

"Jones" he began, rolling a lone pea around his plate, "you were right. Earlier, I mean. A union with Toshiko _would_ be unwise. She's wrong for me, and… well… that's all there is to it, really. I apologise for speaking to you the way that I did."

When Ianto didn't immediately respond, Jack forced himself to look up at him, and was more than a little taken aback by the complexity of emotions on the other man's face. With his pokerfaced mask shifted slightly out of place, he almost looked like a different man.

"Apology accepted, sir" he eventually said, his voice low and even. "And I would like to extend my own."

It was Jack's turn to frown. "Your own what?"

"Apology, sir. I fear a misunderstanding occurred regarding my response to your thanks for speaking as I did to Lady Sato."

Jack bristled, unsure that Ianto had quite grasped the point of his upset. An upset which he'd previously _hoped_ he hadn't shown quite so obviously.

"Jones, you don't have to say sorry. What you said was… accurate, after all. Although you're still the only valet who's ever had anything positive to say about me, so I suppose I can take small victories where I find them" he replied, a little bitterness creeping into his voice as the words trailed off.

"Sir, while it is my admittedly self-appointed duty to defend you in front of others… particularly bellicose young women who barely know you, that does not remove any sincerity from the words" Ianto attempted to explain, looking for the first time in Jack's employ, slightly awkward in his stance and manner.

Jack cleared his throat. "What exactly are you trying to say, Jones?"

"I am attempting to explain that what I said to Lady Sato about you was…. not simply an empty sentiment for the young lady's benefit. It was the truth… sir."

Ianto lowered his head briefly before straightening himself up and forcing his long-cultivated impassive expression back into place. If Jack didn't know any better, he'd think that Ianto had been possessed for three minutes before whatever had taken over his mind had been exorcised as quickly as it arrived.

"I hope we understand each other now, sir" Ianto said, smiling in a way that he hoped looked polite, rather than nervous. Why it mattered so very much to him that Jack didn't think he had a sanctuary in Ianto, he had no particular wish to contemplate just yet, but as Jack stared blankly up at him he knew that his task had been accomplished and he released a silent sigh of relief.

"Umm… yes, Jones, I think we do. Thank you" Jack said slowly, astounded that Ianto had seen through him yet again, but not understanding why it had taken so long or why on earth he seemed so shaken during his explanation. He saw the cogs working behind Ianto's eyes before the young man reached out a little and clamped one hand down on his shoulder. Jack felt his entire body sag in response to the contact, and covered the hand with his own to keep it there for a while. He felt Ianto tense slightly before capitulating, and when Jack looked up again, that small smile had evolved into something warmer.

"You're forgiven" Jack said very quietly.

"Thank you, sir" Ianto whispered, squeezing gently once more before extricating his fingers from Jack's. Jack felt the loss of touch keenly, but a good portion of the day's stresses had miraculously jumped ship from his mind. With Ianto on his side, he felt almost invincible. There was just that other little problem to remove in order to restore his natural cheerfulness…

"Just one more question, Jones…"

"Sir?"

"Have you got any ideas about how to get me out of this unholy goddamned mess with Toshiko?" he pleaded, looking so much like a lost puppy that Ianto couldn't restrain the chuckle that bubbled up in his chest.

"Consider it done, sir" he replied, turning on his heel and returning to the kitchen with a wider smile that he had felt able to wear in the longest time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Pip pip, all! A nice long chapter for you, in which we discover Ianto's plan for extricating Jack from Toshiko's clutches, as a reward for being such marvellous readers and reviewers. As always, I adore feedback and hearing what you think of the way the plot is going. 3 Enjoy!

* * *

"Jo-ones!" Jack's voice rang through the flat in a sing-song tone. He randomly tinkled at the keys of the piano as he sauntered passed it, his chipper gait miraculously returned since the events of the previous evening.

"No music, indeed" he muttered to himself with a smile, his mood failing to drop into one of horror even as he remembered Toshiko's tone regarding his skill on the ivories.

Ianto stepped into the lounge from the balcony holding an empty coffee cup and the morning paper, freezing when he saw Jack. Embarrassed at being caught looking like something other than the perfect butler, he cleared his throat and smoothed down his waistcoat in a nervous gesture of his.

"Sir, I'm terribly sorry, I was-"

"Having a little break?" Jack teased.

"Well sir, it is…" Ianto checked his pocket watch and raised his eyebrows. "Just before nine AM, sir. I was planning to bring your breakfast to you at ten, as always… did you give me orders to the contrary? It's most unlike me to forget… well… _anything_ sir, I can only profusely apologise-"

Jack's laugh brought his bumbling to a halt.

"Jones, _relax_" he said, taking pity on the poor flustered man, though working himself up had caused a rather attractive flush to work its way up his throat. "I didn't say to bring my breakfast any earlier, I just… well, it's a beautiful day, and the morning seemed wasted lounging in bed. So I thought I'd get up early for once in my life!"

Ianto continued to stare at him as if waiting as if for a punch line that didn't come.

"Are you quite well, sir?" he asked softly, genuinely wondering whether he should be concerned.

"Yes Jones, I am, and I should be offended that you feel the need to ask simply because I'm awake and coherent at this hour" Jack huffed.

"Forgive me sir, it's a shock to the system" Ianto deadpanned, causing his employer to scowl.

"Well I suggest you quickly overcome this so-called shock and tell me exactly what your plan is to get rid of that vicious little woman I have the misfortune to call my fiancée" Jack said as he adjusted his own tie, "and you can do so while working some coffee magic and scrambling some eggs."

* * *

Jack sat at the kitchen table shamelessly watching every move Ianto made and idly speculating on whether he'd ever seen a person move with so much grace. He swept through the room with an intimate knowledge of where absolutely everything was kept, even the things that Jack occasionally moved around in continually failed attempts to wind the other man up. But he appeared to have them internally tagged somehow, proven by the way he seamlessly reached for the ground black pepper in the bread bin, where Jack had previously hidden it.

"You're a marvel, Jones" he said unthinkingly, a sigh of awe creeping into his voice.

"Thank you, sir" Ianto replied mechanically as he carefully spooned the golden mound of egg onto a plate and sprinkled it liberally with Worcestershire sauce.

"No, I mean… you really are. I'm sure everybody tells you and perhaps it loses its meaning, but… to me, you're quite frankly a genius" Jack said, eyeing his breakfast lasciviously as it was laid before him alongside a rich black cup of liquid joy.

"My mother thought so too, sir" Ianto said with a hint of a smile, "but I feel that 'genius' is a hyperbole in this particular instance. I simply know the needs of my master."

"Yes, but you knew my needs before you'd even stepped in the door! Sit with me Jones, you're making me uncomfortable" Jack ordered through a mouthful of soggy toast.

Ianto hesitated a moment, as he always did when Jack asked him to sit closeby – it just wasn't _the done thing_ – but he did as he was told and settled himself opposite, hands awkwardly in his lap as Jack studied him.

"So Jones, tell me this grand plan of yours."

Ianto smiled at him with false innocence. "It's all in hand sir, and probably better that you're unaware of it as it unfolds, for maximum effect."

Jack narrowed suspicious eyes. "What do you mean, 'maximum effect'? Is this going to result in me getting belted across the face?"

"Perhaps sir, but you have to ask yourself; is a right hook from Lady Sato's delicate fist not worth the pain when the alternative a legally binding tie to her?"

Jack nodded fiercely. "Absolutely" he said in a tone that was an octave higher than usual.

"Then trust me, sir" is all that Ianto would say, an unmistakably devious shimmer in his baby blue eyes.

* * *

If Jack was feeling particularly melodramatic as he reached the grand entrance of Toshiko's family home, he would tell people that as he ascended the handful of steps into the daunting porch that his life flashed before his eyes. As it transpired, he felt entirely justified in being melodramatic, as he clung to his beautifully arranged bouquet of daffodils as if they were his lifeline.

"Morning!" he grinned cheerfully at the sour-faced butler who opened the door to him. "Jackie Harkness" he clarified, "here to see Tosh."

The butler physically winced at the shortening of his mistress's name and curled his lip in the face of the foolhardy American littering the Sato doorstep.

"Of course, Mr Harkness" he said with no small amount of distaste; "follow me".

Jack trailed behind the grizzled timeworn man, pulling faces at the back of his head to amuse himself as they worked their way through a building (he couldn't think of it as a _home_) that was easily as intimidating as Toshiko herself. Perhaps that charming trait ran in the family, then…

The butler huffed as Jack collided with the back of him, too busy trying to find the happy place in his mind to watch where he was going.

"Sorry" he offered a boyish smile which was not appreciated.

"You will find Lady Sato in her study, sir" he announced, before glancing down at the flowers in Jack's hand. "Allow me to take those from you sir, I shall find a vase for them in the kitchen…"

Jack clung tightly to the stems. "Err… no, that's quite alright, I think I'll give them to Tosh directly" he explained, remembering what Ianto had told him. _The plan relies upon Lady Sato herself receiving the flowers, sir. Do not allow any member of staff to take them away_, his valet had said, and that was all the extent of Jack's foresight into the day's events. Jack couldn't possibly fathom what the flowers had to do with anything, unless daffodils were on the very long list of things Toshiko despised.

"Very well, sir" the brusque butler replied, taking one last chance to scan Jack up and down with an expression of profound disapproval before disappearing.

Sticking his tongue out at the retreating form, Jack tapped the door four times and waited.

"Come" Toshiko called from within, and Jack's final thought as he entered the dragon's lair was that Ianto's plan had better be spectacular.

"Toshiko, darling!" Jack grinned a little too widely, sweeping into the woman's vast office with a neat dance step and a bow. Toshiko tore her gaze away from the book she was reading, looked him up and down and raised a single delicate black eyebrow.

"Jack. Yes, of course, wedding arrangements. Come and sit down."

"First, my dear, may I offer you these as a token of my affection?" Jack waved the bouquet in front of her face and she grimaced at them as if they might bite. "Daffofils" he explained, "Welsh national flower, so Jones tells me."

"Yes, I know what they are, Jack" she sighed. "Why didn't you hand them to Frobisher outside?"

"I wanted to give them to you by hand" Jack shrugged, hoping she hadn't noticed the bead of sweat working its way down his right temple.

Toshiko pursed her lips and glanced around the room, her eyes landing upon a full vase in the corner of the room.

"Throw those tulips out of the window" she waved a hand dismissively, "your imbecilic friend Owen Harper sent them to me."

Jack scuttled over and regretfully disposed of the wilting flowers, feeling a pang of guilt as he imagined Knobby picking them out (perhaps quite literally, from somebody's garden) to offer to this ice queen.

"I didn't know you were acquainted with Knobby" he said as he took the vase over to her whilst she began to unwind the yellow crepe paper from the daffodils' stalks.

"Eurgh, the deluded little rodent of a man won't leave me _alone_" she shuddered, and Jack had to repress a Ianto-esque eye roll. As his attention wavered and he began to scan the room around them, he didn't notice that Toshiko had stopped dead and was staring down at the inner layer of flower wrappings. That was, until a soggy wedge of paper was pressed furiously against his face.

"What… the _hell_… is the meaning of this?" Toshiko hissed, and as Jack looked down at her he realised that she had turned a worrying shade of cerise. As his eyes adjusted to the slightly blurred words, he could just about make out '_in this section, n and m will only be standing for positive whole numbers…'_ Jack gawped at her.

"You tore pages out of _my book_ to wrap these hideous _weeds_!" Toshiko screeched, startling Jack from his trance. Again he looked at the damp paper, noticing the title at the top of every page… _The Mathematics of Success. _

Clutching the flowers, she effectively beheaded the entire bouquet against the edge of her desk and glared at him with wide eyes and bared teeth.

"Jack Harkness, if you think you now have ANY chance of marrying into _my_ illustrious family after… after THIS!" she waved the papers maniacally in the air, "you're even more senseless than I originally believed!"

_Jones, you brilliant, brilliant man_ Jack thought, before doing something very, _very_ silly – he grinned. And as Toshiko's knuckles collided with his nose, he laughed.

* * *

"Ow… OW-OW! Jones! What in hell are you doing to me?"

"Sir, if you'll excuse my impertinence, could you cease this impression of a little girl with a grazed knee?"

"NO, no I will NOT excuse your- OUCH! Damn, shit, ass and fuck!"

Ianto raised his eyebrows in incredulity as he continued to press the tightly-packed gauze package of ice against Jack's nose.

"May I say that swearing doesn't suit you, sir? Perhaps such language is best left to Doctor Harper."

"Jones, I could have brain damage, and my perfect face is RUINED! Exactly how calm do you want me to be?" Jack growled, trying to lean away from the throbbing ache the ice was causing until Ianto forcefully grasped the back of his neck and held him in place.

"As calm as a gentleman who has just successfully freed himself of an unwanted engagement, sir?" Ianto suggested, a smirk playing upon his lips.

"Well…" Jack relented, "I can try. But this hurts like an absolute bitch!"

"I know sir, but keeping still will help" his patient-as-a-saint valet replied. "And by the way, you're in Britain now sir – it's 'arse', not 'ass'."

Jack burst out laughing, the joyous sound only cut off by a fresh wave of pain.

"Swearing suits _you, _Jones" he chuckled, as the other man removed the ice briefly to mop up what blood remained on his upper lip. "Tell me the truth… do I look like Joseph Merrick?"

It was Ianto's turn to laugh, a _true_ laugh, a _loud_ laugh. He recovered quickly as always, but Jack beamed from the inside out that he'd made such a thing happen.

"Sir, in no way do you look anything like Joseph Merrick, I can assure you. Mr Merrick could only have dreamed of being so handsome" he said, clearing his throat immediately afterwards and reapplying the ice.

Jack fought against the urge to hiss in pain, and stared into his valets eyes, who held his gaze and reflected it with something resembling curiosity.

"What's your name?" Jack finally asked.

"Jones, sir" the other man replied, quickly adding "Ianto Jones", feeling a little foolish for immediately replying with the name Jack already knew. He was too used to it; Jones was who he was in front of his employer. His previous masters had always known his full name from his references, but never asked for or spoke of it.

Jack's gaze softened but his stormy eyes showed no less intensity. "I knew it had to be something unmistakeably Welsh. It's beautiful."

"Thank you sir" Ianto offered a slightly shaky smile and swallowed down the warmth rising in his throat until it dissolved. "Allow me to bring you a brandy, sir. It will help with the pain."

He nodded respectfully and rose from his seat to fetch the decanter and a glass from the dining room. Stilling his actions for a moment in darkened silence, Ianto slowly let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding, while Jack's smile remained steadfast as he waited on the other side of the wall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Good evening, darlings. Here we have the latest instalment, in which our heroes spend a little time apart and ponder on where their loyalties lie. I'm a little unsure of this one, so feedback would be received with a megawatt smile from me.

It occurred to me while writing this chapter, with no small sense of mortification, that all of the women so far are painted in a horrible light. In fairness the majority of the women in the Jeeves stories _are_ a pain in the arse, and that's sort of the point because it pulls focus directly to Jeeves and Wooster and their relationship, which absolutely transcends love. In my story, I exaggerate the women much further because this version is distinctly less innocent than Wodehouse's, shall we say, so there's a difference in context. So let's agree that I'm NOT setting feminism back, okay? I'm also not slagging off the 'real' Gwen (I will continue to state this because I will always defend her).

Enjoy!

* * *

By the time Jack dragged himself out of bed the next morning, head throbbing with the pain of his damaged nose, his valet was already gone. It was Ianto's day off but even so, Jack discovered as he padded to the kitchen in his pyjamas that the young man had left a pot of coffee simmering for him. He couldn't help but grin as he poured himself a generous sweetened cupful. Since their misunderstanding and the subsequent clearing up of the issue, he'd felt a renewed freedom and a warming affection towards Ianto, without wasting too much time examining it. He believed that Ianto too, who had never quite been _conventional _in his role from the start, was beginning to treat Jack as a chum. A chum who he happened to serve, wake up, tuck into bed, and call 'sir'.

As he shuffled into the lounge with a second cup of coffee and a badly-sliced piece of burnt toast, Jack formulated a magnificent day plan that involved not seeing anybody or doing anything at all until 5PM, at which point he would depart to the Torchwood club, then return home with hopefully more than a little fine alcohol in him and a stolen policeman's helmet pitifully hidden beneath his coat.

* * *

Queuing at the post office as he patiently awaited his package of fine imported coffee beans, Ianto had to wonder why he was wasting his day off completing tasks which were technically part of his job and therefore could wait until tomorrow. It was not as if the large bean jar in the pantry wasn't still at least a third full… and it wasn't even that he was looking forward to taste-testing this new blend which he had painstakingly ordered after hearing exceptional reviews of its rich flavour. No – he realised with mild sense of disbelief – it was the inherent desire to please his employer.

"Mr I. Jones?" somebody called, jolting him from his introspection. He stepped forward to sign for the parcel, offering a polite nod of thanks before working his way out onto the relative calm of the Sunday afternoon pavement. _Keeping Mr Harkness contented is your job_, he reasoned with himself, but it was more than that. He longed for Jack's approval because… they were friends.

Ianto wasn't a man who made friends with any sense of ease. Oh he was _liked_, certainly; his wit and his humour made him an attractive conversational partner, but he struggled with the openness that friendship demanded. Any companions he had once had tired of his (what some thought of as) almost robotic persona, and he never fought to keep them. He even struggled to feel close to his own relations, and they to him as a result. It hadn't been a wrench to leave them behind in Newport and move from master to master in London, where the ageing bachelors had far more money than sense and liked the way he silently cleaned up their messes.

Ianto remained faintly baffled by the immediate and ever-growing levels of intimacy he shared with Jack Harkness. In his more peaceful moments, it was so very easy to think of him with a warm sense of sentimentality, knowing that each little thing he did for the man resulted in the sincerest gratitude and one of those dazzling smiles that told the recipient _you've made me happy_. Exactly the reasoning behind the procurement of the fresh batch of coffee, in fact. Yet in those slightly darker times in which he made the spectacular mistake of reflecting upon his own life, he knew it was futile to think of Jack in that way. For all his faults, one day the other man would most probably marry, and married men almost never kept their valets. Jack might retain his services as a butler perhaps, but either way they would not be the companions they were now. However, Ianto also knew that he would stay with Jack until Jack no longer needed him.

At his employer's apartment building, Ianto decided against personally taking his cargo up to the flat, instead handing it to one of the porters and turning on his heel once more. He needed some time alone, and besides if Jack was at home he would shoo him away, saying that he should be enjoying his day off. Ianto struggled to think of much he enjoyed more than losing himself in the soothing monotony of housework and making superb coffee, but deciding to live a little, he headed to a pub he knew from his childhood as comfortable and dark with local beer and a dart board.

Perfect.

* * *

"Knobby!" Jack waved on seeing his friend propping up the bar and stuffing his face with vol-au-vents. He slapped him heartily on the back and Owen grinned with pastry flakes decorating his teeth.

"Jackie! I was about to give up on you, what time do you call this? And what the hell happened to your ugly mug?"

"Cocktail hour old man, that's what I call it. And… I had a small disagreement with somebody's fist. But never mind that, where's the goddamned barman?"

Jack ordered a very large, very dry martini and settled himself in what was, at the very least, his second home. In the main dining room a group of lads he semi-knew from university were tossing shuttlecocks and playing cards towards the ceiling, attempting to land them inside the light shades. He shook his head with only minor affection and turned to Owen, who looked even more self-satisfied than usual.

"Alright, what have you done this time?"

Owen widened his dark eyes in a show of false innocence.

"What on earth do you mean?" he asked.

"I _mean_, why do you look as if you shagged Marlene Dietrich in a police box on your way here?"

Owen choked on his drink with a wicked bark of laughter while Jack continued to eye him suspiciously.

"It wasn't Marlene, I had to let her down gently this time" Owen chuckled.

"So who has you looking like an overstuffed Cheshire cat?"

"Well, if you must know… it's your ex-fiancée."

Jack gaped at him. "Toshiko? The woman loathes you!"

"What? No! Not Toshiko! Wait… she loathes me?"

"Yes, but that's not important right now… good lord Knobby, I assumed you meant the most _recent_ fiancée, you're going to have to be more specific than that."

"Well I thought she _was_ your most recent fiancée! Actually, I'm talking about Gwen Cooper."

It was Jack's turn to choke; only his coughing fit was so vicious that Owen had to thump him between the shoulder blades hard enough to cause bruising. When Jack came up for air his eyes were bulging in astonishment.

"You… and _Gwen_?" he gasped. "But she's engaged to Jingo Williams! I saw the announcement in the paper just this morning!"

It had given Jack no small amount of joy to discover that. In fact, he'd gone so far as to leap around the flat singing _'Anything Goes'_ at the top of his lungs, knowing that the Cooper girl would never again harass him… but apparently a little thing like being engaged to a decent man didn't stop her.

Owen shifted in his seat. "Yes, well… how was I to know she'd be so bloody… seducible!"

"Please, I've no wish to hear any more detail than that" Jack shuddered. "Gwen Cooper is a scourge to mankind."

"Says you" Owen snorted. "You'd think differently if you'd at least allowed her to get close enough to slip her tongue inside your-"

"Knobby, do you mind?"

"I was going to say 'ear'."

"Of course you were" Jack sighed. "Have you thought about the repercussions of this? How Jingo is going to feel?"

"He probably won't find out" Owen shrugged. "I'm not the one who's got anything to lose here. She's still on the rebound after you and Jingo clearly isn't giving her what she needs."

"She never _had_ me. And Jingo's hardly been given a chance! You're an idiot, Knobby Harper. She clearly doesn't know what she's doing."

Owen ignored him and held up another vol-au-vent, lapping the salmon mousse from within and showing it to Jack.

"Oi Jackie, this looks just like Gwen's-"

"RIGHT, I'm leaving."

For the second time in a few short weeks, Jack found himself unwillingly storming out of the Torchwood Club and wondering why on earth he was friends with Owen Harper at all. Or any of the regular lot who wasted all of their time there, for that matter. It occurred to him that since Ianto's arrival, the evenings spent at home with a glass of something amber and his valet's unobtrusive but ever-enthralling company were immeasurably more satisfying than those at the club with his 'friends'. He was torn between a sense of vague contempt for them and a nostalgic affection for his long-gone youth. Had he really grown up and left them all behind? If he had, it was extremely sudden and correlated directly with hiring Ianto. His relationship with the young man continued to prove to him precisely what he'd been missing.

Jack stood listlessly at the corner of the road, tilting his pocket watch towards the street light above. He realised that he'd been in the club for less than an hour before leaving in fear of violent illness; it was an embarrassingly early time to return to the flat. Making a quick decision he hailed a taxi, requested the nearest drinking hole and five minutes later stepped out in front of somewhere that looked from the outside charmingly… _quaint_. Wholly the opposite of Torchwood. Excellent!

* * *

"Where did you learn to play like that, Mr Jones?" the awe-stricken and airheaded barmaid gasped at Ianto, who for the third time had just plunged his dart effortlessly into the centre of the board.

"Practice, ma'am" he smiled, raising his glass once more to his lips. The evening had been quiet and reasonably pleasant, but for the unwanted attentions of she who continued to provide him with bitter. He was beginning to dread returning to the bar as she batted her lashes continuously up at him. Retiring to a plush seat near to the fireplace, he rolled his eyes when the woman followed and covered her actions by stoking the flames in a manner she clearly felt was subtle.

Beaming at him, she straightened herself once more and brushed the ash from her apron, flicking her hair in what she seemed to think was an alluring manner.

"Mr Jones" she purred, "are you… married, sir?"

_Well, that was predictably direct. _"No ma'am."

She bit her lip and he resisted the urge to sigh.

"In which case, would you like-"

"Jones!" a familiar voice called, and Ianto glanced up towards the open pub door to find his immaculately-dressed employer filling the space, grinning that flawless Harkness grin. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Sir" he smiled back, astounding himself with just how welcome the prospect of Jack's company was. It didn't seem to matter that it was the same man he saw all day, every day… he was exactly who Ianto wanted to see at that precise moment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

In which Jack and Ianto see each other in a new light outside of the workplace. A nice long chapter for you, partially out of guilt because I'll be away all next week and unable to write (though I'll be entirely able to reply to messages and reviews through my phone). Also by the time I'm home, the Word trial on my laptop will have run out and I refuse to pay for Office, so that might delay me, but I _will_ spend some of my leisure time plotting new storylines.

Did anybody get the dual meaning behind the '_Anything Goes_' reference? One gold star if you thought of John Barrowman's cover, a thousand gold stars if you knew that the 'book musical' of Anything Goes was part-written by P.G. Wodehouse. Tenuous, much?

Anyway, I am once again nervous of this chapter so let me know what works and what doesn't. Peace out, chums.

* * *

"Nice little spot, this" Jack declared as he took in the decidedly rustic décor of his surroundings, missing the dejected look on the barmaid's face as she slid by him. Ianto cast his eye over the somewhat dubious (though undeniably sharp) outfit choice of his employer, in particular the superfluous houndstooth scarf which he couldn't bring himself to make a comment about outside of work hours. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow and besides, the abhorrent accessories were so much a part of Jack that it was becoming increasingly difficult to find the nerve to surreptitiously dispose of them.

"Feel free to take a seat, sir" Ianto offered, indicating the seat opposite him.

"Oh, err…" Jack shifted slightly awkwardly, shuffling only a little closer. "This is your night off Jones; I really don't want to disturb you when you have your hands full with me the rest of the time…"

Ianto smiled in the face of his employer's rarely-seen diffident side and took pity.

"I would be glad of some company that I already know as agreeable, sir" he said, nodding as an extra affirmation and Jack's grin re-affixed itself as he sank into the chair.

"You look different" he said to his valet, finally taking the time to acknowledge that Ianto was, whilst still dressed smartly, out of his waistcoat and bowler hat and into a soft maroon jumper over his shirt and tie. "Red is very much your colour, Jones. Somehow brightens your eyes."

Ianto fidgeted ever so slightly at the flirtatious wink Jack offered him, though he was well aware that the other man did such things for entirely that reason. However on the surface, his only response was to twitch a solitary eyebrow and say "I wish I could be so complimentary regarding your choice of headwear tonight, sir."

Jack cackled loudly, removing the offending garment and holding it lovingly in both hands.

"I chose this one with you in mind" he teased.

"You have stooped to buying items that you _know_ will irritate me, sir?"

"Absolutely, Jones. Are you surprised by this development?"

"Not even vaguely, sir. Just a little wounded."

"I almost look forward to discovering that a much-loved item has disappeared and having to grill you over its whereabouts. I believe I'm beginning to see through those cracks now, Jones… I can tell when you're lying to me."

"Lying, sir?" Ianto tilted his head in a show of faux innocence that started Jack laughing again.

"Let me buy you a drink?" he grinned, and Ianto nodded his thanks.

"Bitter please, sir."

Ianto watched as Jack sauntered to the bar, managed to make the barmaid blush in less than ten seconds, and returned looking like the cock of the walk with two glasses in hand. Jack took one sip of his own and spluttered.

"Good lord, that's… potent!" he gasped. Ianto smirked and took a hearty mouthful of his own beverage.

"What did you order, sir?"

"I went with what you're drinking. What the hell is in this stuff?"

"The same as any other beer sir, but this bitter is stronger. Local brews are always more robust, and this was quite possibly prepared in somebody's bath."

Jack grimaced and Ianto glanced at the ceiling. His master could be rather snobbish sometimes, he thought. He preferred his whiskey from the last century and only imported Italian olives in his cocktail glass; he couldn't help but wonder why a man like Jack had stepped into a place like this in the first place.

"If you don't mind me asking sir, and I make no implications, but why are you here and not at the Torchwood Club?" he enquired. Jack clearly wasn't even tipsy yet, which meant that if he had seen the club at all tonight, it wasn't for long. Jack pulled another face, this one of disdain.

"Knobby was making me sick" he muttered. "The idiot is having a fling with Gwen Cooper."

Ianto raised his eyebrows. "Did I not read in the newspaper that Miss Cooper was engaged to Mr Williams, sir?"

"You did Jones, yes. Gwen is on the rebound from yours truly and Knobby is pining for Toshiko; somehow they've come together through mutual rejection. And as per usual, I'm stuck in the middle" Jack sulked. "Sometimes I wish I'd never met all of these people. Apparently I can't be trusted to make a sensible decision regarding a person's character."

"Sir, it's no bad thing to immediately see the good in any given individual" Ianto gently replied. Jack smiled warmly at him, quite sure that in contrast to his other friends, none of his feelings for the young man were misplaced.

"You know, you don't _have_ to call me 'sir' outside of work hours" he explained. Ianto's eyes widened almost indiscernibly before he could reply.

"I… think it would be indecorous not to, sir."

"We're friends though, aren't we? We're… pals…" Jack trailed off, suddenly struck by uncertainty about whether Ianto felt the same. His valet looked startled again but he smiled what seemed like a genuine smile and replied "yes sir, we _are_ friends. In truth, my argument lies more with the fact that calling you by a different name at varying times of the day would disrupt routine."

"God forbid I disrupt your routine" Jack smirked, and Ianto looked embarrassed. "Hey, don't worry" he soothed, "I just want you to know that should you ever let slip and call me 'Jack', I won't be docking your pay, or flogging you, or whatever is it you're supposed to do when your valet steps out of line."

"You would be lost without me, sir" Ianto replied, immediately taken aback by his own cheek.

Jack let out another of those carefree laughs and nodded. "I'm glad you're aware of that, Jones! You always know what I need. Don't think I didn't notice that you left the coffee pot bubbling away for me this morning."

Ianto shrugged just one shoulder, bringing to Jack's attention the difference in the young man's physical poise in this relaxed environment. He was slightly slouched in his seat, melted into it with his hands lying loosely on the arms, not perched ramrod straight with knotted fingers like he was at the flat, at least in front of Jack.

"I know how you are in the morning, sir" Ianto smiled.

"And how is that, Jones?" Jack prompted, one eyebrow raised in readiness to argue.

"American, sir."

"American? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Emotional, melodramatic and quite often rude, sir."

"I'll have you know Jones, that any slight on me is a slight upon yourself."

"Sir?"

Jack grinned smugly. "I'm British."

Had Ianto been sipping his beer at the time, he may well have spluttered unattractively into the foam.

"I'm from Scotland" Jack continued, "formative years spent in the States, developed the accent, then returned to the UK in time for university. So any character flaws of mine _cannot_, sadly, be blamed on Americanness."

Jack took a victorious sip of his drink, the flavour of which he was slowly learning to tolerate, and watched as Ianto's expression finally fell once more into his usual deadpan façade.

"I had no idea, sir. I apologise for all of the casual xenophobia during the last few weeks."

"You Welsh are so passive-aggressive."

"Touché, sir."

Jack leaned back in his chair, feeling immeasurably more tranquil than he had at the club. Possibly more than he _ever_ had at the club.

"If you don't mind _me_ asking Jones, why are _you_ here?" he asked, thinking that if there was a good time to make the young man tell him anything about his life, this was the right circumstance.

Ianto finished his last mouthful of bitter with a satisfied smack of his lips, glancing around at the place.

"My father used to frequent this particular establishment, sir" he explained. "He quite often took me along as a child. We would take the train from Newport, and spend all day here. For some reason… this is the first time I have visited since returning to Cardiff."

"They sound like fine memories for you" Jack smiled, and Ianto's nostalgic expression faltered.

"Mostly, sir" he murmured, absently raising his glass to his lips before remembering that it was empty.

"Does your father still come here?"

Ianto's eyes met his. "He passed away some years ago, sir" he replied, his voice and expression so eerily even that Jack couldn't even begin to discern the young man's feelings about the subject. To hazard a guess, he would assume that it was a decidedly raw topic.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, reaching across the heavily stained little table to pat Ianto's hand. His valet forced a smile and gently pulled away from the touch, his natural detestation for being pitied overriding the welcome warmth of Jack's fingers.

"I think it may be time for me to retire to the flat now, sir. That" he pointed to his glass "was my fifth and even for a Welshman, such a volume of home-brewed alcohol is unwise."

"A fine idea Jones, I'll come along too" Jack said, standing first and whipping Ianto's heavy wool coat from the back of his companion's seat.

Ianto stared blankly up at him before standing too, and allowing his employer to help him in into the garment. It was completely alien, being on the receiving end of this; having Jack's hands running across his shoulders and down his arms mirroring the same actions Ianto used on him daily. When he turned, he found himself face to face with the gleaming Harkness grin and cleared his throat before trusting himself to speak.

"Sir, I've no wish to cut your evening short-"

"You're not, Jones" Jack cut him off, leading the way out of the pub. It occurred him to that perhaps Ianto wanted a little time to himself, but a little realisation like that wasn't enough to stop him insisting on keeping the young man company. He stopped as he went to open the door, turning his head to meet Ianto's eye.

"To be perfectly honest, I simply wish to be where you are" he said softly, chuckling when Ianto's rosy lips parted in surprise.

* * *

The taxi ride back to the flat was silent, but not uncomfortable. Ianto picked fluff distractedly from the cuffs of his coat, replaying fragments of conversation in his mind and finding it impossible to see the evening as anything other than resoundingly agreeable, despite the strange and perplexing air of the situation. He glanced subtly at Jack, who appeared to be smiling indiscriminately at everything and nothing through the window. How extraordinary it must be, Ianto thought, to have a place in your mind kept separate from all the strains and the loneliness, a '_happy place'_ to where Jack clearly retreated at regular intervals. Ianto's own version of that was, he suspected, far less of a self-built little fantasy world and more a place of blankness and white noise where he could find a little calm in a storm.

"Coming, Jones?" Jack grinned at him, signalling that the car had halted and the door opened without him even noticing. Mentally shaking himself as he stepped gracefully onto the pavement, Ianto resumed his position of ghosting his employer until they reached the flat, at which point Jack insisted on taking his coat and ignored the baffled expression on his valets face.

Ianto switched on the lights as Jack flicked through the post which the porter had kindly placed next to the telephone,gleefully grabbing a large envelope and a box that was address to Ianto.

"This one is for you, Jones" he said, passing the package to Ianto.

"Ahh yes, this is the new batch of coffee beans sir. I picked it up from the post office this morning and left it downstairs."

Jack placed his envelope down on the piano and rubbed his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he beamed. "But I didn't realise we were low already?"

Ianto shifted slightly, glad of having something to do with his hands in holding the box.

"We're not sir, this is a new type of bean which I have been longing to try for some time" he said.

"And you are so very wise when it comes to coffee" Jack declared. "Well, wise when it comes to _everything_, actually! To what do you attribute your vast intelligence, Jones?"

Ianto placed the package on the coffee table with the intention of opening it in the morning, and strolled towards the floor-to-ceiling window to stare out at the darkened city.

"Fish, sir" he replied. "My mother fed me a great deal of it when I was a boy, and my consumption of it has continued through adulthood. Many scientists have claimed it to be the ultimate brain food."

Jack looked at him with wonder as he sat in front of the ivories, ripping open his envelope.

"Is there anything you don't know, Jones?"

Ianto looked down at him and smiled. "I really don't know, sir."

Jack chuckled and turned his attention to the booklet in his hands, flicking delightedly through until he settled on a page and propped it open at eye level.

"The new sheet music I've been waiting for. Do you play, Jones?" he asked as he peered at the notes on the paper.

"Not for a long while sir."

"It's not something you ever forget though, is it?" Jack said, and patted the small leather bench next to him.

Ianto hesitated but finally acquiesced, perching himself almost impossibly snug against Jack as the bench was only made for one backside. He cleared his throat and focussed on the booklet.

"Do you know this one?" Jack asked, the extremely close proximity meaning that when he turned to face him, leaning in at all would have resulted in his nose pressed to the young man's ear.

Ianto peered at the title; _The Very Thought of You_ by Ray Noble. "I do sir, yes" he replied, as surprised by the admission as Jack was. "I've heard it on the wireless. Very pleasant song, sir."

"Shall we give it a go?" Jack grinned.

"Provided you do the singing, sir" Ianto replied, laying his fingers lightly on the keys as he already began to memorise the harmony. Jack laughed and softly counted them in, music surrounding them instantaneously. Although Ianto had heard Jack sing around the flat (mostly in the bath), he wasn't quite prepared for the previously unheard gentle edge he applied to this particular song, perfectly suiting the delicate rise and fall of the tune.

"_The very thought of you, and I forget to do,_

_Those little ordinary things that everyone ought to do,_

_I'm living in a kind of daydream,_

_I'm happy as a king,_

_And foolish though it may seem,_

_To me, that's everything…"_

Ianto quickly turned the page, his desire to not interrupt the flow of Jack's voice far stronger than the need to continue playing. A tiny stutter in the music and Jack continued, clearly losing himself in the song. It was worlds away from the limericks and big band tunes that he normally sang in an obnoxiously loud baritone, something that would have been irritating were he not so talented. His voice, regardless of lyrics, seemed to soften Ianto's bones and calm his mind to little more than mush. His own fingers worked on autopilot, looking for all the world as if he was concentrating on nothing other than the sheet music whilst truly feeling a thousand miles away.

The music tapered off all too soon, Jack reluctantly coming down from the high he felt in singing. Despite being one of his greatest loves, he didn't feel he put enough time and energy into doing it justice, hence the buying of the sheet music. _Real_ music, emotional and complex, that was his new project.

He felt a deep contentment as he and Ianto gently played out the last note together, the young man's skills having surprised him, though he didn't know why. He had expected Ianto to be able to play well – skilfully and fastidiously, the same way he undertook all tasks – but was unprepared for the passion in his playing, the way he knew exactly what pressure to use on the keys for which notes to bring out the finest in the song. _He had an artists' fingers_, Jack decided as he glanced down at Ianto's hands, watching them stilling on the keys and then linking elegantly together.

"Very nice" Jack affirmed softly, offering a staggeringly warm smile. Ianto swallowed hard as he drifted back into his own consciousness, the silence comparatively stifling within the dim room and his awareness heightened by the fact that the entire left side of his body remained pressed against Jack.

"A perfect demonstration of the healing power of music, sir" he replied, his voice faraway and roughened by emotion.

An overwhelming pause occurred, before Jack spoke again.

"If you ever need somebody to talk to…" he whispered, so close that his breath delicately brushed at the shortest hairs behind Ianto's ear.

"You'll be the first to know, sir" his valet replied, closing his eyes with a sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Hello, lovelies. I'm back from my break and have overcome my writer's block to bring you something new. Please let me know what you think of this one, and I'd love to hear your theories.

Without further ado - enjoy!

* * *

The second time a surprisingly thunderous clatter echoed from the vicinity of the kitchen and interrupted Jack's playing, he decided it was, perhaps, time to stop. Not that he thought there should be any correlation between his taking up of the majestic oboe and Ianto's apparent inability to keep anything in his hands that morning, but even he could see that a pattern was forming.

Following his newest obsession with learning anything and everything he could lay his hands on both vocally and on the ivories, he'd decided that a wind instrument was next to conquer. His valet had taken an instant dislike to his toy in contrast to his former willingness to aid in piano duets, including one incident in which Jack somehow talked him into singing the female part of one show tune which was a full octave higher than the melody. It was mutually agreed that Jack should remain in sole control of vocals.

But the adoption of the oboe was something different, and if Jack had been aware of anything beyond his own pursuit of musical nirvana, he may have noticed the extremes Ianto was taking to avoid being in the same room as him.

Owen had naturally made some comment about it seeming fitting that Jack would choose such a phallic device to blow on all day and crassly asked (whilst lounging on Jack's sofa, snaffling his Turkish Delight) if he was over-compensating for something. Once upon a time, Jack might have responded in a similar vein, perhaps arguing that at least his potential penis extension did not require the kind of dimensions reflected by his friend's humongous 1932 Morris Ten-Four. As it was, with his reasonably recent realisation that he was in fact above such things, he ignored it and Owen grumpily labelled him dull before flouncing off.

Jack tried to feel despondent about the fact that he didn't seem to have much in common with his old friends any more, but he couldn't quite manage it. Instead, he focussed on his new toy and completely failed to notice his valets gradual decline in good cheer.

* * *

Ianto had been acutely aware of the day approaching – he had it memorised, the date scorched onto his mind – and had hoped to be able to deal with it in the same companionable peace to which he had become accustomed. Instead, Jack's infatuation with music had chosen _this_ particular week to rear its head in an odious fashion with the aid of that deplorable oboe. As with all things, his employer undertook the practice with passion and impatience, to the extend where, whilst his voice and his piano playing were borderline excellent, he appeared to suffer from selective hearing whenever the reeds of the oboe touched his lips. He was _dreadful _at it, and the more he played, the further towards the edge of sanity Ianto found himself.

When the feeling came to a head, it happened to be on the day that he'd almost circled on the calendar, only to decide that there was absolutely no need to remind himself further of that anniversary – he was never likely to forget it. Jack sat upon the piano stool with his blue velvet waistcoat (a questionable choice in Ianto's opinion) open and his tie askew as he squinted at the sheet music in front of him. For the second time, Ianto had dropped the largest of the kitchen's saucepans on the floor, narrowly avoiding his feet again but irreparably chipping the enamel of the pot. He swore under his breath at the noise, and then again when he noticed that Jack had ceased playing.

"Everything alright in there, Jones?" his employer called, sounding so carefree and chipper that Ianto felt the morbid desire to wrap the pan around his skull. Straightening himself out and making a concerted effort to control the quaking of his fingers, he slid through the kitchen door and forced a tight smile.

"I appear to be a trifle clumsy today, sir" he explained, balling his hands into tight fists.

"Indeed you do, Jones. Are you trying to destroy my kitchen?" Jack grinned, Ianto's short temper causing him to scowl in reply.

"Why would I attempt to destroy the place where I spend the majority of my day, sir?" he asked in a harsh tone that had Jack's eyebrows rising northwards.

"It was a joke, Jones" he said, straightening his shoulders defensively.

Ianto knew that he should apologise, but he chose not to. Mercifully the doorbell pinged at precisely the right time, giving him the opportunity to excuse himself with a brusque nod.

"Good morning, Mr Manger" Ianto greeted the hotel manager with a short bow, fighting the urge to recoil that he always felt in this man's presence. Manger's sunken staring eyes never failed to make his skin crawl, and he spoke to Ianto a little too softly to be comfortable.

"Good day, Mr Jones" he purred, glancing Ianto up and down. "I've come to speak to Mr Harkness." his eyes narrowed at the name and Ianto reluctantly took him through to the lounge, knowing than whenever the manager wished to speak to Jack, Jack got himself into trouble by allowing his mouth to run away with him. Judging by the agitated sigh that left Manger's non-existent lips at the sight of Jack raising his instrument in preparation, this was not going to be an exception.

"Mr Harkness" Manger interrupted, his face sourly contorted with not even an attempt at a polite smile. Jack being Jack however, beamed at him, though he didn't offer his hand. His feelings about Mr Manger were similar to Ianto's, with the addition of knowing from their first meeting that he had extremely clammy palms which felt like the skin of a damp toad.

"Mr Manger! Not behind with the rent, are we?" he asked, shooting an inquisitive look over the manager's shoulder at Ianto, who stared impassively back.

"No no, Mr Harkness, but I'm sorry to say that I have had several complaints from other tenants" Manger explained, tilting his chin in a manner that was clearly designed to make Jack feel as small as an ant. Jack, however, was a Harkness, and Harknesses didn't respond to such gestures. He drew himself up to his full six feet and glowered.

"Complaints about what, exactly?" he asked.

"_That_, Mr Harkness" Manger pointed accusingly at the oboe still clutched in Jack's right hand, his lip curled in disdain. Watching the scene, Ianto felt something resembling relief briefly flow through him; if Jack was forced to give up the instrument, Ianto might at least be able to go back to brooding in silence without the intense added irritant of an extremely badly-played hautbois. Sadly, the sensation didn't last.

"Your neighbours, Mr and Mrs Derbyshire, are threatening to move out of my _exceedingly _refined hotel due to your infernal din" Manger continued. Jack gaped at him.

"Did you just say 'infernal din'?" he spluttered.

"I did!"

"Well, let me tell you Mr Manger, that the man who hath no music in him is fit for..." he paused and frowned into mid-air, the quote escaping him. "Hang on a minute" he said, ignoring the man's cheeks colouring in anger and stepping to one side for a full view of his valet.

"Jones, what was it Shakespeare said the man that hadn't music in himself was fit for?" he asked. Ianto sighed, annoyed at being dragged into the argument – but his place was to serve Jack, and of course he knew the answer, just as his presumptuous employer knew he would.

"Treason, stratagems and spoils, sir" he replied flatly.

"Ahh, thank you Jones" Jack said and stepped back into place.

"There you go Mr Manger: treason, stratagems and spoils. If Mr and Mrs Derbyshire wish to leave, let them."

"Mr Harkness, Mr and Mrs Derbyshire have been residents of my hotel for five years-"

"So have I!" Jack argued. "Why should I be treated differently? Is it because I'm a bachelor, hmm? Does that put a black mark on your oh-so-cultivated hotel? Or do you have something against Americans, is that it? What's the real reason for this... this... _prejudice_?"

It was Ianto's worst nightmare come true. At some point in riling Jack up, the accusations would always spring forth and for once, he had absolutely no intention of mopping up the mess.

"Excuse me, sirs" he quietly said and slipped by Manger back into the safe haven of the kitchen, fully aware of Jack's eyes stalking him.

"Jones!" he called, but Ianto didn't falter.

"It seems even your valet tires of you" Manger said with a sardonic half-smile. Jack placed the oboe carefully down and folded his arms over his chest, his anger continuing to rise.

"I will not give up this instrument just because another of your damned wearisome tenants wants me to" he declared. "And you can't throw me out for this alone. I have rights!"

Manger glanced down at the offending article as if hoping that his gaze would set the thing alight, but it didn't. He stared back at Jack with ice in his narrowed eyes, flicking them quickly towards the kitchen door before he spoke again.

"We'll see, Mr Harkness, just where your loyalties lie when everybody else loses patience with you too" he said with an eerie mildness that could chill the bones.

Jack simply stared back and made no attempt to see him out. Once Manger was gone (slamming the door rather loudly for somebody so concerned about noise pollution) Jack allowed his shoulders to sag and went directly to the kitchen to find Ianto, who was hunched over the table polishing the crumpet warmer with none of his usual poise.

"What the hell was that about, Jones?" Jack asked, schooling his voice into something suitably soft since even he could see that his valet was distressed.

Ianto raised his head and stared blankly at him. "Sir?"

"Leaving me alone with _that _old lizard" Jack explained with a theatrical shudder. "I thought you're supposed to defend me to my enemies!" he tried to smile but Ianto didn't respond.

"Do you have to give up your beloved oboe then, sir?" he asked with a futile swell of hope.

"Absolutely not, Jones. Never!" Jack sniffed. "A man's oboe is his... kingdom. Or something."

Ianto clenched his fists again, a sudden and profound dislike for his employer's stubborn nature blooming in his mind as he used every ounce of his diminished emotional strength to control it.

"You intend to continue playing, sir" he murmured, a statement rather than a question.

"All hours of the waking day, every day, until I've mastered it" Jack announced with pride.

It was too much. Ianto couldn't live in this atmosphere, not today of all days. Not with a man who was too distracted by his precious music to even notice that his supposed closest pal was in a state of unrest. Of course, it was Ianto's duty to maintain the façade of everything being just spiffing, but he simply couldn't dredge up the power to retain the illusion. All he wanted was a little bit of peace, quiet, and normality. That clearly wasn't going to happen if he remained in this flat.

"In that case, sir" he said in a wavering voice, raising himself with his hands flat on the tabletop. "I must give my notice, with immediate affect."

Jack's eyes and mouth opened wide in a way that might have been comical were Ianto capable of responding with even the slightest hint of humour.

"Jones... did I hear you correctly?" he croaked.

"Yes, sir."

"You would actually consider leaving my entourage?"

Ianto inwardly rolled his eyes. _Only Jack would consider a group of two people an 'entourage'._

"With the greatest reluctance, sir. But if it is your intention to continue with that instrument within the narrow confines of this flat, you leave me no choice."

Ianto watched Jack bristling, knowing the signs all too well. At least if he lashed out now, Ianto might find it easier to leave.

"Jones, you _can't_, I am your employer and I absolutely do not give you permission to leave!" Jack snapped.

"I am not under contract to you personally sir, and technically I'm employed only by the agency. They are the only ones I need tell about the termination in our arrangement. I am afraid you have no say in the matter."

Ianto felt strangely powerful in that knowledge. At the present moment, the future was not his concern; his only desire was to be away from this flat and this man, with his mood swings and obstinate rantings and his _heinous_ instrument, until he could overcome the personal turmoil that threatened to cripple him as the significance of this date loomed.

Jack stood lost for words, logic screaming at him to backpeddle for all he was worth, to not allow his lifeline of a valet to leave, sit him down and help him through whatever had him so on edge. But... that was never going to be the immediate reaction. Logic was always drowned out by an intense bullheaded defensiveness and it never re-emerged until much later. As it was, Jack had already decided that Ianto was bluffing and only saying this to make him stop playing with his new toy. And as always, Jack called the imagined bluff.

"Well, then... LEAVE, damn you!" he demanded, brow furrowed and nostrils flaring at the thought that Ianto assumed he was stupid enough to fall for such hollow trickery. Not a muscle in his valet's face so much as twitched, but his eyes shone with a sorrow that was, for the moment, lost on Jack.

"Very good, sir" he whispered, and left Jack standing flushed, astonished and alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

You kids are wonderfully insane - 100 reviews after ten chapters? I _love_ you! I owe you all a good, hard, wet snog.

As usual this ran away from me and I wrote far more than I planned to. It's the longest chapter so far... I just hope it holds your attention for long enough to allow you to reach the end! I've pulled away from Wodehouse a little for this one (though the story of Bertie learning an instrument and Jeeves leaving because of it IS from the source material) but this is more recognisably Torchwood. Enjoy!

* * *

Within the hour, Ianto was gone.

Jack had spent the time between their argument and the door clicking shut with a disturbing sense of detached care, pacing the kitchen in a rage and making the odd growling comment to himself about insolent Welshmen. It was another of those times, like during the Lady Toshiko Sato débâcle, wherein Jack felt entirely friendless and slipped into the foulest of moods.

It took two days for him to admit that he was failing to draw any pleasure from playing his oboe any more, and a further twenty-four hours to realise that it really _was_ an infernal din he was creating. He hadn't wanted to face the fact that he was _bad_ at something, but on his third morning of isolation it struck him like a golf club to the skull that he wasn't going to get any better at this. The thought spawned a strange emotion in him that he supposed was a kind of humility... somewhat of an alien concept to Jack Harkness.

One more day was enough to force him to overcome his pride and admit that he needed Ianto back. He'd had no idea of quite how much mess he was able to create by himself when all of that time was spent mangling his eyesight with sheet after sheet of elaborate wind jazz, but a quick glance around the flat proved how much he required his valet. An even quicker evaluation of his mood since the young man left established just how much he _missed _him. Slowly it dawned upon him that he had chosen _an oboe _over the only true friend he had in the world, and he was genuinely horrified with himself.

Jack could have very easily spiralled into a maelstrom of self-pity on making so many displeasing discoveries in such quick succession. He reflected both on the things he had been ignoring that he was missing (company, conversation, cleanliness, coffee and fine cooking), and the events of the day that they parted ways, during which (it was only apparent to him now) Ianto had not been his usual self for some time. In fact, he was downright out of sorts. And those emotive eyes had been crying out for a support that had not been forthcoming.

No, the reason Jack would not succumb to a pity party was that the Code of The Harknesses forbade it. One must realise when one is wrong, he told himself, even when it is extremely belated and has caused a lot of unnecessary heartache as a result. There would be plenty of time to beat himself up over his bloody-minded stubbornness later – his mission for now was to retrieve one Ianto Jones.

* * *

A blindingly clear issue presented itself quite suddenly while Jack was slipping into his coat (no longer suppressing the feeling of loss at not having a pair of steady hands pushing out the kinks in the fabric) – he had no idea where Ianto was. He had mentioned telling the agency... yes, perfect, Jack would contact the agency! Fortunately his mind was working too quickly in its attempt to catch up with the last four days to fully register the panic coursing through him that Ianto might already have been assigned to another gentleman. _You are a grade A moron, Harkness_ he reminded himself, faltering in his search for his telephone book as he wondered again how he could possibly choose a damnned instrument over his Jones. Sometimes he loathed himself for being quite so hot-headed – and the only person who had ever both accepted the way he was and yet had subtly began to help him change for the better... was Ianto.

* * *

"Yes, hello! Good morning!"

"Good morning sir, what can I do for you?"

"I... well... the thing is, I lost my valet, and..."

"You _lost_ your valet, sir?"

"Yes. What I mean to say is, he left... and I don't know where he is."

"Right."

"Yeah. So... can you tell me if he's been assigned to anybody else?"

"Certainly, what's his name, sir?"

"Jones. Ianto Jones."

Jack tapped the toe of one of his Oxfords against the table leg in his impatience, noticing that the shoe wasn't up to his usual standard of glossiness and allowing a fresh wave of guilt and anxiety to flow through him in response.

"The most recent record we have of his employment is with a Mr Jack Harkness."

"That's me!"

"And... he is no longer with you, sir?"

"No. We had... a disagreement. He mentioned something about having to inform the agency that he was leaving me. My employ, I mean."

"Mr Jones hasn't been in contact with us, sir."

Jack exhaled slowly with relief. It had to be a good sign that Ianto hadn't yet made his decision so final as to actually tell the agency or move to a new gentleman.

"Perhaps the police would be your best option sir, if you're concerned about his whereabouts."

"What? No! I'd like to find him myself" Jack hurriedly replied. "I just don't know how to go about it."

With a sickening clench of his stomach, Jack realised just how little he knew about Ianto. Of course, he'd not bothered with all the boring paperwork and the references that might give him a clue... damn damn damn.

"Perhaps you have his next-of-kin information? Something that would give me an idea" he implored.

"Do you not already have a copy of Mr Jones' personal paperwork, sir?"

Jack bit his lip. "No. I... misplaced it."

The woman on the other end of the line didn't bother to suppress her sigh. Jack instinctively knew he would have to try harder.

"I didn't catch your name" he said, pushing out all of the concern from his voice and replacing it with his most syrupy charm.

A pause, and then "Carys" she said.

"You have a beautiful voice, Carys. I can see why they put you on the telephones, but you'd be far better suited to the wireless. Where are you from?"

He could _hear_ her becoming flustered. "Uh... Splott."

"Splott" Jack repeated, emphasising the double 't' in an attempt to make it sound sexy. "Your accent is to _die_ for. Though if I did die listening to it, I'd ensure I came back, just to hear it again."

He heard the young lady's breath catch slightly, and grinned. _And she didn't even have to see this face to fall for it..._

"The next-of-kin is a Mrs Rhiannon Davies, sir. Sister to Mr Jones" she said, her tone a great deal softer than before, and she reeled off an address which Jack scribbled down at lightening speed.

"Carys, you are a saint!" Jack praised, holding his scrap of paper like a trophy.

"Just doing my job, Jack. I mean... Mr Harkness. I mean, sir!" Carys babbled.

"Keep up the good work, honey. I'm going to bring my valet back!"

* * *

When Ianto had turned up on his sister's doorstep, she was already looking at him as if this was expected. He swallowed down the bile that rose in response to the pity in her eyes, and allowed her to wordlessly throw her arms around him.

* * *

"I thought to myself this morning, if there's ever a time for Ianto to come around, it's today" she sighed as she passed him sub-par cup of coffee which he was inordinately grateful for. He glanced around his sister's cosy little home, revelling in the fact that it was the polar opposite of every household he had ever worked in or visited with a gentleman.

"How are you holding up?" Rhiannon quietly asked, placing a hand on top of his and gazing at him with intensely tender dark eyes.

"Not especially well" he admitted.

"We knew it was going to be hard. Those kinds of memories... they don't go away. It's only been a year."

"I know."

"It'll probably be the same _every_ year..."

"You're not helping" Ianto said flatly, extracting his hand and wrapping both palms around his cooling mug.

"Sorry" Rhiannon murmured, with the mournful look she'd inherited from their mother.

"It isn't your fault, Rhi" Ianto breathed. "You're right. It probably will always be hard. But I didn't expect... I don't know. Can I... would I be able to stay here for a few nights?"

Rhiannon flushed with glee and Ianto had to force his eyesight not to stray towards the ceiling.

"Of course!" she enthused. "I miss you, you know? I mean, it's better now that you're not all the way in London, but still, you never come to see me..."

"I'm here now" he murmured, forcing a small smile.

"But what about work?"

"Work can wait" he said, but he could already tell that she had something bubbling to the surface, some small piece of gossip about him that she'd latched onto because they so rarely spoke save for the odd letter.

"Alright, what is it?" he said, exasperated but glad of the distraction.

"Susan said she saw you" Rhiannon blurted.

"Again, with coherence?" Ianto patiently requested.

"Susan! You know Susan, down the road? Well, she told me she saw you trailing after a man."

"I spend a great deal of my time trailing after men, for better or worse."

"She said he was _gorgeous_, like Errol Flynn!"

Ianto couldn't help but allow a smirk. If anything, Jack would insist that he was far more handsome than Errol Flynn.

"He's my new employer."

"Doesn't sound like your usual type... I thought you were always lumbered with the doddery old codgers?"

"I am, but I was offered Mr Harkness and took the job as a challenge. It's... different" Ianto shrugged.

"He's good to you then, is he?"

"Yes" Ianto immediately answered, wincing a moment later when he remembered Jack's tone on telling him to leave.

"And...?"

"And what?"

"Is he gorgeous? Does he really look like a film star?"

Ianto chuckled, amazed at his sister's innate ability to give him something pointless to focus on.

"He is very handsome" he conceded.

* * *

Ianto's short time in the Davies household dragged on, interspersed with insomnia and long bouts of staring into space. He had spent that first day with Rhiannon relentlessly badgering him to talk to her about his feelings, despite the protestations that it wasn't his strong point. However, by the end of an exceedingly tiresome evening he had finally yielded, and once he began, it was remarkably easy to let his thoughts and emotions spill out. By midnight he was tearstained and exhausted, and Rhiannon had helped him up to the minuscule spare bedroom, wherein he switched his brain to autopilot and dozed, aware of his surroundings but blissfully unheeding of them.

Afterwards, with the need to mourn slowly receding, the guilt began to set in; guilt at having left Jack thinking he abandoned him just because of a bloody _oboe_, and knowing that his employer wouldn't know how to contact him. As he continued to tell himself he wasn't quite ready to return to the flat and apologise, the hours turned into days and his concern only increased. Perhaps Jack had immediately hired a new valet... Ianto liked to think that he meant more to Jack, that he couldn't just _replace_ him... but Jack's moods swung so violently when heightened, it was impossible to tell. His gut twisted unpleasantly in response to the idea of him having found somebody else so quickly, though it seemed unlikely.

Rhiannon had been reasonably restrained in her enquiries regarding Jack, but he knew she was wondering why he still hadn't gone back or made any attempt to contact him. He hadn't lied; he'd explained that his emotions had gotten the better of him and he needed the space, but he left out any details of the oboe, their argument and his dramatic exit. On the morning when finally he felt enough like himself to bite the bullet and return with his tail between his legs, he was astonished to wander into the lounge and find his sister sitting with none other than his employer, who was smiling politely as she giggled at something.

"Sir" Ianto interrupted, subconsciously flattening his jumper. Jack glanced up at him and immediately beamed, before reeling the smile back into something more contrite and standing to look him in the eye.

"Jones" he said, unbelievably grateful to see him again. "I was just telling your sister that good looks must run in the family!"

Ianto didn't stop himself from rolling his eyes this time, and Rhiannon seemed to preen in response.

"Your charm remains boundless I see, sir" he stated, manner and diction immediately returning to the professional, in which he found a great deal of comfort. "Can I get you anything?"

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I just... umm..." Jack stammered, and Ianto raised his eyebrows in wonderment that even Jack Harkness could be lost for words occasionally.

"I'll leave you to it" Rhiannon said in a theatrical whisper, creeping out of the room and leaving the two men standing awkwardly in the centre of it. Ianto smiled at her in thanks and then returned his gaze to Jack, who seemed lost.

"The thing is, Jones, I..." he began, and then grabbed the long leather case that had been lying on the sofa behind him. Ianto winced at the sight of it.

"I was wondering if you knew where I could find a home for this" Jack said, indicating towards the box which contained his formerly precious oboe.

"You wish to rid yourself of it, sir?" Ianto asked, hoping beyond hope.

"It turns out I'm not very good" Jack explained sheepishly. "And... I don't really enjoy it any more so I thought there might be a deserving cause to which we could... donate it."

"Might I suggest the November the fifth celebrations, sir? They are always on the lookout for cheap bonfire kindling."

Jack laughed a true, deep belly laugh and Ianto felt a warmth spread through his chest.

"I'll even let you throw it in Jones, you must be longing to do so by now" he grinned, and dropped the case carelessly back onto the sofa.

"Anyway... I also wondered if you'd like to return to your post at the flat" he said, suddenly serious again and pleading with his eyes. Ianto didn't need to think about it.

"I would be honoured to sir, if you wish it."

"I do wish it, Jones... I do" Jack took a step forward and searched the young man's face in a manner which made Ianto feel utterly exposed.

"You look tired" Jack said softly.

"I have been sleeping in an alien bed sir, it takes time to adjust" Ianto explained.

"I'm reasonably certain you haven't been sleeping at all, Jones" Jack frowned. "You didn't leave just because of the oboe, did you?"

Ianto's eyes widened and he cursed himself for not giving Jack enough credit. Apparently he was more perceptive than herealised.

"Sir?" was all he said, that knotted feeling returning to his abdomen.

"That day, and for a few days before that, you weren't yourself, Jones. You were short-tempered and you left me alone with Manger – that's not you" he shook his head. Ianto wondered if he could face exposing his secrets to somebody as emotionally unstable as Jack. He might start crying, or organise a cuddle workshop, neither of which Ianto was equipped to handle. Then again... he couldn't think of a plausible excuse.

"I apologise, sir" he muttered.

"No, _I _apologise, Jones. I pushed you, and I didn't realise in time that you were feeling out of sorts. I'm afraid that's my style... speak first, think much, much later... but you already knew that" he said. Ianto offered a shaky smile and a tiny nod.

"And that's why I need you back" Jack continued, "to reel me in and anchor me when I'm being an imbecile."

"I shall do all I can to rise to the challenge, sir" Ianto replied dryly in an attempt to not show how the words had caused a swell of emotion deep within him.

Jack looked into his valet's world-weary eyes and dragged him into a hug, not giving him time to pull away. He wrapped his own arms tightly around Ianto's shoulders and squeezed, attempting to pour into him a little warmth and comfort. He couldn't claim that it was an entirely selfless act, but if it benefited them both, where was the harm?

Ianto stood stock still for a long moment, startled enough by the gesture to not complain that Jack was clinging to the point of discomfort. When his brain finally managed to send a message to his arms, they loosely encircled Jack's waist and he slumped into the embrace, finding that patch of space within his own mind in which there was nothing and allowing himself to languish there for while.

"Ready to go, Jones?" Jack whispered, patting his back. Ianto pulled away and nodded.

"Allow me a few minutes to pack, sir" he replied, running a hand through his uncharacteristically unkempt hair as he disappeared from the room. Rhiannon slipped back in so immediately that if Jack was a suspicious man, he might have thought she'd been listening at the door.

"He explained it to you, did he? Why he ran off?" she asked, padding back towards the handsome man she was rather pleased to have in her house.

"Oh, no, I already knew why" Jack nodded, though it occurred to him that it still hadn't been explained why Ianto had been in a dreadful mood to start with, but he hoped to discover that with a little gentle persuasion. More important was bringing his friend home and returning to normal.

Rhiannon looked surprised.

"You knew?"

"Yes, of course. It was my fault anyway, I pushed him about it and aggravated the situation" Jack sighed. Rhiannon gaped at him, her cheeks turning pink.

"You _knew_, and you intentionally made it _worse_?" she hissed. "How could you! Ianto is _incredibly_ sensitive about it! He absolutely _adored_ Lisa and losing her completely shattered him, so if you think I'm just going to let this slide, you-"

"WAIT! Wait... what the _hell_ are you talking about, and _w__ho_ is Lisa?" Jack growled, struck with the sudden understanding that he was completely out of his depth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Evening, gang! Another chapter for my gorgeous readers, one of chatter and introspection before the next adventure occurs. See if you can spot the discrepancy in this chapter which I also mentioned in C11. I was completely aware of it even as I wrote it, but hopefully this admission absolves me from having to faff about re-submitting anything.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Packed and ready, sir" Ianto announced, two suit covers slung elegantly over his forearm and an impeccably buffed leather case in his spare hand. He frowned as his employer emerged from the lounge looking ashen and wide-eyed, Rhiannon trailing behind with a worryingly identical expression.

"What is it?" he asked her, looking past Jack. Her eyes flickered around before resting on his and she forced a lopsided smile.

"Nothing, I'm just sorry to see you leave!" she said, taking great pains to adjust her visage accordingly. Ianto, of course, was not fooled even for a moment but he chose not to press at that point. Instead he played her little game and smiled back, stepping forward to give her a quick, tight hug.

"Thank you for having me" he murmured before kissing her forehead.

"Any time" she replied, "I'm always here should you fall out with Mr Harkness again!"

Rhiannon's laugh was hollow and abrupt. Ianto pretended with practised ease that he hadn't noticed, and gestured for Jack to leave first, ghosting him to the car.

"Would you like me to drive, sir?" he offered whilst carefully loading his luggage.

"Hmm? Oh, no... no Jones, I can manage" Jack said distractedly, already stepping into the driver's seat. Ianto slid in next to him, noting with a small (but comfortingly familiar) flare of annoyance how filthy the interior was after such a short space of time. He was already writing a mental list of exactly what would need scrubbing/organising/polishing/all of the above and enjoying it to an extent that most would find concerning. Ianto, however, had long ago accepted and embraced his compulsions.

"Is something troubling you, sir?" he asked, slicing through the thick silence which had descended as they pulled away from the Davies household.

"Of course not, Jones" Jack replied a little too quickly, making a show of being completely and utterly focussed on the road. Ianto frowned at him for the second time. Jack was normally a reckless driver and almost always spent more time staring out of the window or at whoever was in the passenger seat than at the road before him. Something was wrong, and Ianto did not like the slightly nauseous feeling which rose from his belly at the thought of what may have happened in those ten minutes or so while he was packing.

Jack scowled at the people and the wooden signs as they flew by, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He was attempting to summon every ounce of concentration that existed within him to drive them home safely, but his mind burned with images that the brief yet terrifying tale Rhiannon had told him conjured up. Then again, if he didn't think about the horror of the story, he might shift focus and allow himself to flood with self-hatred for pushing as he had a man such as Ianto – a man who had seen and survived too much already – whether he was aware of his history or not.

Ianto could physically sense the tension growing between them as they approached the city once more. His face remained the blankest mask he could muster as he ran through the possibilities in his mind, all evidence leading to the one thing he hoped against hope his sister would not have simply blurted out to his boss. However, he could see it in the way Jack sat taut as a bowstring, and in the way his brow furrowed with the air of a man who was busy processing the type of information he never thought would affect him. In a bizarre way, it was almost a relief.

"Rhiannon told you, did she sir?" he finally asked, eerily quiet and staring out at the midday coastline. Jack jerked in his seat, but didn't once remove his gaze from the road ahead. While it was his natural inclination to flounder and lie through his teeth, knowing Ianto as he did he was aware that it would be entirely in vain. Once again, the young man had seen right through him.

"Don't be too angry with your sister, Jones" he implored softly.

"I'm not angry, sir" Ianto replied, almost a whisper. Goosebumps rose on Jack's skin; it disturbed him that Ianto could sound so detached from the state of affairs.

"Tell me about her?" he murmured, tearing his eyes from the road to flick them in Ianto's direction. His valet remained fixated on the greyish sea but his shoulders raised slightly and tensed at the request. For a long while, he didn't say anything. Then when he did, Jack had to lean in slightly to hear him clearly.

"Lisa was beautiful" Ianto began, picturing her unharmed form. "I adored her at first sight. She had been a fund-raiser for the flagship London Torchwood club before they were able to open it. After which, she dedicated her career to give the Torchwood name the prestigious reputation it has now. She suffered a great deal of bigotry of course, being a woman... but she was a fighter, sir."

Ianto took a long breath. "I worked for a highly esteemed Japanese businessman named Mr Tanizaki at the time, in Kensington. Lisa and I would meet at the club almost every night. Four months into our friendship, I asked for her hand in marriage."

"What happened, Jones?" Jack pressed on, unconsciously slowing the car as he lowered his voice.

"Sabotage by a rival gentleman's club, sir" Ianto replied darkly. "It can never be proven whether they planned to start the fire. Not that it matters. Seven members of staff and three customers died in the blaze."

"Lisa being one of them" Jack mumbled. "Your sister said... you tried to pull her out."

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut. God, what he would give to not be having this conversation. Why he had already allowed so much of the tale to spill out of him, he could not explain. Part of him shook with violent anxiety, telling him no, stop laying out your soul on a plate to a man who couldn't keep a secret to save his own life... then there was that element of relief re-emerging, the comfort of somebody to tell it to; something he hadn't felt for the entirety of the twelve months since Lisa's death. The only reason Rhiannon knew all that she did was because she had gotten her hands on every single news report in existence relating to the fire, several of which referred to Ianto Jones as a 'tragic hero'. He _hated_ being called such a thing.

"I tried to pull her out" he said, voice low and husky with emotion as he self-consciously tugged his jumper sleeves further over his hands.

"You were very brave, Jones" Jack said, seeing Ianto shake his head from the corner of his eye.

"I was panicked, sir. A different thing entirely."

"I think bravery is ninety per cent panic anyway" Jack shrugged. "In the Great War, those kids didn't drag their wounded buddies out of the mud because they didn't care about their own welfare; they did it because they couldn't bear to lose them."

"You make it sound like a selfish act, sir" Ianto sighed.

"Well, it kind of is, Jones. You want your pal to live their life just as much as you want to continue to enjoy their friendship. It goes both ways."

Ianto considered Jack's point of view, and not for the first time, wondered what might have happened had he succeeded in pulling Lisa's half-destroyed body from the wreckage of the club. She would have lived her life in pain and misery, inhuman and twisted and wrong, simply because he didn't want to let her go. As much as he loathed himself for the thought... he had to concede that she was better off having perished.

"I'd like to think that you would have told me about this one day, Jones" Jack said – almost shy, almost hurt.

"I have never told _anybody_, sir" Ianto replied, finally turning towards his employer. As Jack's eyes briefly met his, he hoped that he was conveying the importance of this conversation; that he had capitulated when asked and said more than he had ever done on the subject was not to be taken lightly. Jack's eyes were large and sympathetic and he nodded slightly before turning back to the road. Ianto slumped in his seat, feeling ever so slightly lighter and pushing the image of his Lisa back to the vaults of his mind.

An unspoken understanding seemed to replace the tension between the two men, one of trust and of respect. Jack felt immeasurably honoured to have flashed a light into an unexplored corner of his valet's mind, and had what he found there offered and explained. He had no idea what he could possibly say to make Ianto feel any better about any of it, but he was quite certain that the young man would not appreciate any of the kind of oft-repeated sentiments people endlessly uttered in situations of bereavement. He _certainly_ would not want pity. So Jack opted to say nothing on it, instead taking a breath and deciding on a gesture of reciprocation.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to tell you, Jones" he said, squinting as the sun bounced off the pale city buildings, "if I didn't think that they would change your opinion of me."

"Things about Mr Smith perhaps, sir?" Ianto asked, and Jack thought that the steering wheel might crumble beneath his hands as he clung to it even more tightly to avoid swerving.

"H-how do you... who..." he stuttered, uncharacteristically turning pink as his heart hammered in his chest.

"I did extensive research on you before joining your employ, sir" Ianto calmly replied. "The agency holds reports from all former valets. There were two across eight months, mentioning Mr John 'Doc' Smith with some regularity. He seems to be rather a mysterious character and yet the two of you were virtually inseparable for that time, before he abruptly left Cardiff. I ascertained from the information that, had you any secrets you were unwilling to divulge, they might involve the elusive Mr Smith."

Jack glanced at the young man, then back at the road, then at Ianto again.

"And did you form any hypotheses, Jones?" he asked half-teasingly.

"Well sir, forgive me if this offends, but in all honesty I assumed you to be lovers."

"WATCH OUT!" yelled a ruddy-faced man as the car came to a screeching halt in front of him. He thumped the bonnet of the car as he passed, grumbling more insults as Jack stared through him, frantically gathering his thoughts. Blinking furiously, he eventually turned to stare into Ianto's impassive face, before pursing his lips as the fear rising in him suddenly melted away. The young man's eyes held a wry, knowing expression and Jack shook his head in amused disbelief.

"You're not even shocked are you, Jones?" he asked in a deadpan tone, in awe of Ianto's total composure.

"Should I be, sir?" his valet replied, eyebrows raised in challenge. Jack burst out laughing, any tension that remained leaving him with the sound, and he was utterly delighted when Ianto chuckled with him.

"Unflappable, Jones... utterly unflappable" Jack sighed blithely, forcing the car to lurch back into life. "Time for home. There's a telegram from my Aunt Alice on the coffee table, and the message always sound less ferocious when you read it out to me."

Jack turned and flashed one of his true, ultra-bright grins at Ianto, whose eyes smiled back.

"As you wish, sir."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Another chapter, a new adventure for our heroes. Jack is in hot water yet again and Ianto is smirking in the background. Sound familiar? It should!

Epic love as always to everybody who consistently reviews, and all of you adding my story to your favourites. It means the world to me and spurs me on, so keep it coming! On with the show...

* * *

_Jackie,_

_You must come to Porthcawl at once. You require sea air and a little time away from those bold Cardiff girls. I have heard all about your exploits with Gwen Cooper and Lady Sato, and I am most displeased with you; therefore I shall selflessly give up my free time to act as a sobering influence to you. _

_Come at once._

_Aunt Alice._

Ianto winced, frowning at the scrap of paper as he attempted to mentally rearrange the wording into the order which would least offend Jack's ears. On their return to the flat the day before, Jack had decided that the telegram could wait, choosing not to spoil the afternoon. Instead Ianto caught up on the cleaning and polishing, equal parts joyous and exasperated, while Jack trailed around chattering happily to him. Now, Ianto stood alone in the kitchen as the minute hand reached Jack's waking hour, wondering how to break the news.

When the time came, Ianto crept into Jack's bedroom as per his daily routine (something he had sorely missed at his sister's house), with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, and smiled wryly down at the open-mouthed and dishevelled figure of his sleeping employer.

"Good morning, Mr Harkness" he announced, fighting against the urge to laugh when Jack flailed into wakefulness as if from the dead.

"BUH... muh... morning, Jones" Jack mumbled, both fists immediately flying to his eyes to rub away the mist of sleep. He kicked the covers from his overly hot feet, exposing the entirety of his shimmering blue pyjamas which Ianto (somewhat worryingly) now thought of fondly rather than with horror. He shook off the hideous notion that Jack's questionable fashion 'sense' was rubbing off on him, and told himself it was a general affection for his employer. _Not_ his gaudy bedwear.

"Jones..." Jack purred in a disconcertingly inquisitive manner, smirking as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Sir?" Ianto replied, raising his eyebrows.

"Your tie..."

Ianto's fingers flew to the knotted silk, his immediate reaction being to assume that it was slightly crinkled or not completely centred. Then he realised.

"It's red" Jack stated. Ianto cleared his throat, the tips of his ears growing warm.

"Yes sir, I... hope that you would not mind a little change from the norm."

"Certainly not! It's just a surprise Jones, you wear a black tie all day, every day! It's... you know... refreshing! Besides which, red is your colour. I thought as much when I saw you in that jumper at the pub."

"Thank you, sir" Ianto cleared his throat again, finally remembering the coffee and the paper and laying them down on the bedside table as Jack hoisted himself up, a smile still crinkling his sleep-softened eyes as he ran a hand through his disarrayed hair. One sip of coffee and he immediately looked as if he'd been reset to his factory settings, which Ianto allowed himself to feel ever so slightly smug about.

"Oh, Jones, before you run my bath, what was that telegram from Aunt Alice all about?" Jack asked, shaking out the newspaper, his eyes showing more concern than his voice.

"You will _not_ like it, sir" Ianto sighed.

* * *

"I don't believe this, Jones. What the hell is _in_ Porthcawl, anyway?" Jack sulked, drumming his fingers on his knees and looking up at Ianto, who seemed frustratingly unperturbed as he swayed slightly to the movement of the train.

"Since The Great War, Porthcawl has become a very popular seaside resort, sir. Two years ago the Grand Pavilion was built and part of the harbour was closed off to create an area named Salt Lake, predominantly reserved for hired boats and swimmers. I understand that it's quite beautiful."

Jack stared blankly at him before his sulk promptly returned.

"Who needs tourist information with you around?" he grumbled, though the twitching corners of his mouth betrayed him. Ianto smiled slightly in the flush of victory.

"It could be an extremely agreeable break, sir" he suggested light-heartedly.

"Agreeable, Jones? In what universe could this situation be seen as agreeable?" Jack spluttered, before catching the amused expression in his valet's eyes.

"Don't tease me, Jones" he growled, narrowing his eyes beneath the brim of his (misguided choice of a) panama hat. "I'm not in the mood."

"Very good, sir" Ianto acquiesced, fighting against the need to smirk. It had never seemed so difficult to keep his mask in place before meeting Jack, and just lately it was downright impossible to get through a conversation with him without smiling. Seemingly losing grip of his own professionalism should have been more troubling than it was but as it turned out, he didn't care much, and with a start he realised that his reason for not caring was due to his being more relaxed than he had been for years.

The remainder of the journey was spent quietly (and grudgingly, in Jack's case) enjoying the view as they barrelled through the countryside. Nearing their destination Ianto produced a flask of home-brewed coffee, the scent of which alone raised Jack's spirits immeasurably. Ianto had carefully timed its emergence in order to maintain optimum good cheer for their meeting with Jack's aunt. Despite her insistence at Jack's company, the woman in question did not offer a warm welcome when Jack and Ianto finally stepped into her seaside hotel.

"Aunt Alice, hi" Jack waved, a blatantly false grin plastered across his face as his valet collected the room keys.

Alice bustled over to her nephew, as ever buttoned up to the neck in black – even in early summer beside the sea – with the omnipresent tight-lipped expression of disapproval she reserved just for him.

"The word is 'hello', Jackie" she snapped, tilting her face to receive a familial kiss, which Jack unwillingly applied. "I curse the day that you were sent to The Americas, only to learn nothing but bad habits and appalling grammar. Not that the Scots are any more culturally rich."

Jack bristled in the face of the woman damning both sides of his immediate heritage in one breath, but wisely kept quiet. Ianto stepped behind his employer in a way that to onlookers may have looked more protective than anything else, and opened his mouth to offer a curt greeting before Alice unceremoniously cut him off.

"I need to speak to my nephew alone, Jones. Take his luggage to his room" she ordered.

"Don't speak to him like that" Jack frowned, wholly aware that he was incurring his aunt's wrath and for the moment, not giving s damn. She could abuse him all she wanted (that's what aunts do, as he reminded himself often), but he wouldn't allow her to be rude to Ianto. "Taking up the bags is the hotel porter's job, and _I'm _the only one who makes requests of my own valet."

Alice flushed a curious shade of mauve, and Ianto hastened to diffuse the situation before she started breathing fire.

"Sir, I will need to iron your shirts since they have been folded within your suitcase for such a long journey" he said quietly, watching the tension in Jack's jaw slacken.

Jack turned his head and stared at Ianto for a few moments, before he nodded.

"Go ahead Jones, I'll be up soon enough."

Ianto retreated quickly, following the porter who had indeed already picked up the bags with good grace.

"I should clip you around the ear for that" Alice finally hissed, lip curling in anger. "What would your father think?"

Jack winced and forced himself to look suitably contrite, though the answer in his mind was _he would have been proud that I'd stood up to you, you bitter old hag_.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Alice" he murmured, "these early mornings give me a short temper."

"Well learn to control yourself" she ordered, seemingly accepting his apology. For now. "Come with me to the parlour, we have things to discuss."

* * *

"No. Absolutely not."

"Don't be so histrionic, Jackie. All I am asking is that you spend a little time with the girl."

"You're setting me up, I know how this works!"

"You speak as if there is a conspiracy against you!"

"There _is_! The conspiracy to get Jack Harkness married off to some horse-faced bumpkin as soon as possible."

"JACKIE!"

Alice's cry silenced the rest of the diners lunching around them in the sunny hotel parlour, and Jack smiled apologetically at them all. Alice hadn't noticed.

"How _dare_ you be so rude about a girl you haven't even met!" she admonished. Once again, in the terrible habit he'd most definitely picked up from Ianto, Jack struggled against the urge to roll his eyes. "All the girls you pick out for me are the same, Aunt Alice."

"And all the girls _you_ consort with in Cardiff are the same! So _audacious_" she shuddered for effect.

Jack sighed heavily and stared into his cup of weak tea, entirely certain that he'd rather be watching Ianto doing the ironing than sitting here listening to his aunt match him up to yet another _sensible_ female.

"Besides, you _will_ like Harriet Derbyshire" she stated with absolute certainty. "She reminds me a great deal of your valet."

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. "Jones? In what way?"

"She's terribly level-headed, quiescent and obedient" Alice nodded, as if they were attractive traits in a wife.

"Jones isn't quiescent, and he's only obedient because that's what I pay him for" Jack pouted.

"You and he are far too close" she stated. "It's most queer."

"We spend almost all of our time together, would you rather our relationship was based on mutual disdain?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"He is subservient to you, you are under no obligation to treat him with the fondness that you do."

"He's my friend" Jack asserted, feeling far more defensive of their relationship than he was allowing himself to show.

"Anyway" Alice continued, apparently bored of that particular argument, "Harriet is frightfully pretty. You would be most fortunate to have her on your arm. She is in Porthcawl all this week with her brother Gerald, and I _insist_ that you make an effort."

Alice folded her arms in a manner which stated on her behalf that the conversation had finished. How Jack loathed the gesture.

* * *

"Did the meeting with your aunt prove eventful, sir?" Ianto asked (with an unnecessary degree of good spirit in Jack's eyes), as he greeted his employer with a coat hanger in each hand.

"Eventful is one word for it, Jones" Jack sighed, slumping into a comfortable armchair and taking a quick glance around the room, only to find himself unable to appreciate the plush decoration.

"She's got me mentally hitched to some girl named Harriet Derbyshire."

"Ahh" Ianto replied, his expression one of condolence. "You're not keen, sir?"

"No Jones, I'm not keen" Jack replied, exasperated. "From what Aunt Alice has told me, it sounds as if this girl plays the organ in the village church."

Ianto cocked his head to the side inquisitively. "Sir?"

Jack flapped a hand impatiently. "Oh, it's just an expression Jones. I mean she's _dull_ with a capital 'D'. Her brother is a vicar or something, down here with her, and I'm expected to trail around with the pair of them, as if I have nothing better to do."

"Do you, sir?" Ianto asked.

"Do I what?"

"Have anything better to do?"

Jack narrowed his eyes but he couldn't hold back a smirk. "As a matter of fact Jones, I had planned to spend almost all of my time lying on the beach with a glass of something summery in hand" he haughtily explained.

"Whilst I dutifully rinse sand from your clothing, sir?" Ianto asked, sarcasm tingeing his words.

"Of course not" Jack grinned, "you'll be down there with me, out of uniform and getting some sun on your skin."

Jack gave a theatrical wink and Ianto's eyes momentarily grew wide, before he offered a wry smile back.

"People might talk, sir" he stated.

"People do little else, Jones" Jack replied, sinking deeper into his seat and crossing his arms behind his head. "Now, what do we do about these wretched Derbyshires..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Pip pip, all! I've decided to make Sunday my regular uploading day because I'm more likely to get things written quickly if I have deadlines to work to. Next week's is already started, you may be pleased to know. Thank you as ever for all of the reviews and general attention - it keeps me going!

Well done to everybody who noticed the tiny BBC Sherlock reference at the end of C13 - you have especially fine taste.

* * *

Harriet Derbyshire was everything that Jack had feared; dull, dreary and old-fashioned, from her tight blonde bun to the clothing style straight out of 1918. Alice had deviously feigned surprise at her nephew's presence ("such a surprise; I had no idea he was coming to Porthcawl!"), and Jack was forced to spend the entirety of the next day with all three of them. Alice and Harriet spoke in conspiratorial whispers whilst Gerald talked at Jack endlessly regarding his flock in Herefordshire. Jack's only respite was to mentally undress every swimsuit-clad man and woman who strolled by, and wonder what his valet was doing in his absence.

By the time he returned to his suite at 8PM, he had decided that he missed Cardiff more than he thought it possible to miss anything. A glass of glorious amber liquid was placed into his hand from above, and he peered up from his crumpled heap on the armchair to find Ianto's flawlessly wry expression peering down.

"How was your day, sir? Productive?" he asked, and Jack almost choked on his first sip.

"Very funny, Jones" he groaned. "Harriet Derbyshire is duller than a wet weekend in Brecon. Aunt Alice cannot _seriously_ think we're a good match..."

"I doubt that she does, sir. She simply wishes you married off and siring children as soon as possible" Ianto stated, shrugging one shoulder. Jack flinched.

"To a woman who wears _sensible shoes_" he sneered, downing the last remnants of scotch. "I won't allow it, Jones."

"Do you have something against marriage in particular, sir?" Ianto asked. "Forgive me for saying so but you find yourself engaged with some regularity, yet the idea of completing the transaction seems abhorrent to you."

"You just answered your own question, Jones – _transaction_. That's all it is. When I propose to a girl it's meant to be a romantic gesture, but the second she hears those words, it's a race to the altar during which yours truly gets trampled. A single girl has a personality transplant the moment a guy pops the question."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured for Ianto to sit down opposite. His valet still sat with his hands folded neatly in his lap in front of Jack, but these days he allowed himself to sink into the chair a little. He looked thoughtful – moreso than usual – and Jack watched intrigued as the cogs of Ianto's mind visibly turned.

"I must respectfully disagree, sir" he finally said. "Lisa didn'tchange when we became engaged. In fact... I am quite sure my love for her grew considerably after that event."

His words were soft and deceptively calm, but they held in them a longing for a life lost. Jack squirmed with guilt at his own callous words.

"Forgive me Jones, that was insensitive."

"Apology accepted, sir. Are there any genuine developments in your relationship with Miss Derbyshire or is the majority of this speculation?" Ianto asked, keen to change the subject.

"Well yes, it is mostly speculation Jones, but you know what my Aunt Alice is like once she gets a thought like this in her head! She's more stubborn than you Welsh..."

He glanced sideways at Ianto with a smirk, but his attempts to bait his valet were, as ever, struck down by the simple raising of a neat eyebrow.

"A Harkness family trait, sir" he remarked in the driest voice possible, causing Jack to cackle with glee.

"Jones, I think I'd go insane without your sense of humour to anchor me" he grinned.

"You coped perfectly well before I came into your employ, sir" Ianto pointed out.

"Yes, _coped_ being the operative word. I _coped_, but that doesn't mean that I was happy."

Jack's smile softened as he looked with a positive fondness at his young friend and Ianto fought against the distant feeling of discomfort it produced, focussing instead on the overlaying pleasure in restoring the other man's contentment, as he returned his gaze.

"I endeavour to give satisfaction, sir." he all but whispered.

* * *

"I think that even the Derbyshires may struggle to find you here, sir" Ianto declared as he patted his morning's work with a miniature shovel.

"You may be right there, Jones" Jack replied with satisfaction. "Excellent work!"

"Thank you, sir. Are you quite comfortable?"

Jack shifted slightly in his sand coffin, everything below the neck thoroughly buried within Porthcawl's surprisingly golden beach. The weather was atypical of Wales even for late May; the sun was beating on his exposed face and a light breeze wafted the scents of fresh crab and breaded scampi towards his appreciative nose.

"D'you know what Jones, I damn well am. This might catch on."

"In that case sir, I shall return to the hotel to finish our ironing" Ianto dutifully nodded, rising from his knees and brushing the sand from his otherwise pristine pinstriped trousers.

"Oh" Jack failed entirely to hide his disappointment. "You won't stay a little longer, Jones? Keep me company?"

"There really is a great deal for me to do, sir" Ianto explained apologetically. "I thought you might prefer for me finish my chores now in order to to remain free this evening..." he let the sentence hang a little awkwardly. It was true that these days, Jack certainly preferred to spend his evenings holed up with Ianto, whether on holiday or back at his Cardiff flat, talking and listening to or playing music. However, it wasn't something they actually discussed. Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand.

"Yes, of course, go ahead and I'll catch up with you later" Jack said, instinctively raising his hand to wave goodbye and only succeeding in breaking his wriggling fingertips through the sand. Ianto simply nodded before working his way back to the hotel, feeling an odd constriction somewhere in the vicinity of his diaphragm. He considered himself a reasonably good analyser of people and situations, yet his previously steadfast grip on what he considered to be his straightforward if unorthodox relationship with Jack was becoming increasingly difficult to define. The silences between the banter seemed tense to him, though Jack never looked as if he felt it. On the contrary, his employer used the pauses to watch him, his stare so concentrated that Ianto could sense it even when his back was turned.

In his service thus far with Jack, he had never seen him pay the same kind of rapt attention to any of his other acquaintances, and he felt a curious triumph in the thought. For a man who had spent his life intentionally concealing himself (and liking the invisibility), Ianto was surprised to find that the attention was enjoyable.

* * *

On Jack's return to the hotel, shamelessly flaunting his permatanned arms and legs in the striped vest and black shorts he wore to the beach, he grudgingly had in tow the panicked and meek-looking Derbyshires.

"Good afternoon, sir... Mr Derbyshire, Miss Derbyshire" Ianto greeted them, glancing at Jack in confusion. Whether the pink tinge of his employer's cheekbones was due to the sun or the anger and embarrassment of being around the Derbyshires, it was difficult to tell.

"Jones, could you retrieve my wallet for me, please" Jack said, an air of exasperation in his voice that told Ianto to be quick about it.

"Would you like your robe also, sir?" Ianto carefully asked, his gaze flitting downwards over Jack's toned body and back up. Jack followed his gaze and gave him a look of mock innocence that immediately lightened the mood of the room; at least, between the two of them who had a sense of humour.

"No" he stated flatly, _almost_ smiling.

"Very good, sir" Ianto replied, only allowing a smirk to crack his mask once his back was turned. He was slightly nonplussed to reflect that the 'vanilla' (as Jack referred to her) Miss Derbyshire didn't seem overly shocked by Jack's half-dressed appearance. It seemed suspicious to him that such an apparently wholesome and innocent young lady wouldn't be taken aback by it.

"Here you are, sir" Ianto handed Jack his wallet, and Jack immediately opened it to produce a crisp hundred pounds. Ianto raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Oh Mr Harkness, we can't allow you to give us all this money without any security!" Harriet cried, her pale blue eyes growing large and doe-like in a way that set Jack's teeth on edge.

"Good lord, there's no need for security, just... pay me back whenever you can" he said, forcing a toothy grin.

"We insist" Gerald interrupted, and if he didn't have such a firm grip on his composure, Ianto would have fallen about laughing at the sound of his pronounced lisp. Jack must have been rubbing off on him...

"You don't know us" he continued, "we might be the most dreadful confidence tricksters!"

The Derbyshires shared a look and laughed heartily. _If only you were that interesting, _Jack thought. Behind him, Ianto frowned.

Harriet produced a round flat case from her (beige, Ianto thought it important to note) coat, and handed it to Jack with a sense of reverence.

"My pearls" she explained, opening the catch "A present, from my poor father... now, alas, taken from us. I don't know what they're worth, but it must be ever so much more than a hundred pounds!"

Jack waved a hand impatiently. "Honestly, there's no need for all this." _I don't want your damn ugly pearls..._

"Mr Harkness, we appreciate your heartening confidence in us, but we cannot permit this" Gerald said slowly, as if talking to a child. Harriet shoved the case into Jack's hand, effectively ending the conversation. Jack exchanged it for the small wad of notes, and smiled in a way that he hoped said _yes, get out of my hotel suite so that I can rant about you hideous people to my valet. _The Derbyshires simply stared back at him, as if waiting for something else.

"If you could just... write us a receipt, as a matter of form" Harriet said sweetly, in contrast to the hand motion she made towards him which could only be described as one of vexation.

"Oh, right... yes... ummm..." Jack glanced around for somewhere to dispose of the blasted case, and Harriet was only too pleased to take it from him. As Jack scrabbled for a piece of paper and a pen, Ianto did what he did best and sank back into the furniture of the room, unheeded. The Derbyshires hadn't deigned to so much as glance at him since their arrival anyway, and his ability to be unseen was proven by what he saw the couple do as Jack's back was turned. He almost tutted aloud at the audacity, but as ever, remained still and silent and blended into the wallpaper.

Receipt acquired, the Derbyshires were gone quick as a flash, leaving Jack to drop himself onto the sofa with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. Ianto stepped back into vision, fixing his employer with a concerned gaze.

"If I may sir, why were you giving money to the Derbyshires?" he asked, having failed to piece it together in his head.

"The idiot brother went and lost all his cash on the geegee's, Jones" Jack sighed. "I'd been having a wonderful nap in the sand when the pair of them crept up like devious little crabs and laid their goddamned sob story on me. The man's a _vicar_, and do you know what the name of the horse he bet on was?"

"Sir?"

"'_Little Demon_'."

Ianto's lips twitched at the corners. "Almost poetic in its irony, sir. However, it seems strange that they would follow you all the way to the beach merely to ask for money. There must be simpler ways of acquiring that amount."

"'_Stalking' _is the word you're grasping for Jones and no, apparently not. Clearly I look like an open and generous gentleman."

"Or a soft touch, sir."

Jack pointed a threatening finger up at him. "Watch it Jones, or you'll be over my knee" he growled, looking as deadly serious as he could whilst semi-nude and slightly sunburnt. Ianto smirked, having truly given up on attempting to hide his amusement when speaking with Jack.

"I'll bear that in mind, sir" he deadpanned. "My concern is that Mr and Miss Derbyshire may indeed, as they jested, be attempting to con you."

Jack frowned. "It hardly seems worth tricking somebody for a hundred pounds, surely? What do you know, Jones?"

"Nothing yet, sir..." Ianto lied, looking thoughtfully out of the window at the bright seascape. "But I feel we should be vigilent. In the meantime, perhaps avoiding an accidental betrothal to Miss Derbyshire would be advisable..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Good morrow, ladies and gents. Not that I've been slightly concerned about it all week or anything, but is it safe to assume that the lack of my usual review numbers is due to the fact that the reviewing link was broken earlier in the week? I do hope so .

Longer chapter here, where our heroes' latest adventure is explained and steps are taken. I'm exceptionally nervous about this chapter. Feel free to console me if you think I deserve it .

* * *

The next morning promised to be blessedly Derbyshire-free as the pair were out colluding with Alice for the morning, and so Jack gleefully dragged Ianto for a post-breakfast jaunt while he could. Ianto had not so much expressed his distaste for Jack's blindingly tasteless white-with-gold-trim blazer as downright refused to be within three feet of it, which was difficult when Jack kept trying to jestingly link arms with him. Ianto repeatedly squirmed out of his grip, uncomfortably conscious of the glances being thrown their way, and his employer simply laughed with an infuriating light-heartedness every time.

"Lighten up Jones, nobody is repulsed by my outfit but you" he said, swatting Ianto's arm. His valet was dressed in immaculate black and white as he was every day, but today his tie was a rather luxurious shade of purple. Jack very much approved of that splash of colour, and hoped that it would make a regular appearance alongside the red.

"I'm quite sure that they are all taking great pains to be polite, sir" Ianto mumbled, swerving as Jack made another grab for him.

"Perhaps you should follow their lead" Jack pointed out, sounding so uncharacteristically serious that Ianto quickly turned to him with an apology on his lips.

"Sir, I-"

"I'm teasing you, Jones. I really don't care that you loathe half of my wardrobe. I enjoy torturing you!"

"How kind of you, sir."

"Be thankful I'm not trying to hold your hand."

"I am immeasurably grateful, sir."

Jack offered him a blinding grin, and Ianto immediately relaxed.

Soon enough they found themselves strolling back towards the hotel, in front of which stood two imposingly vast police cars drawing the attention of all who walked by.

"What's all this?" Jack wondered aloud, and the pair of them approached in a quickened pace spawned by morbid curiosity.

As soon as they entered the spacious lobby, Alice's angry voice could be heard from two floors above.

"It sounds as if the presence of the constabulary may have something to do with your aunt, sir" Ianto stated, looking around at the sheepish-looking hotel staff.

"That sounds about right, Jones" Jack sighed. "We'd better investigate."

Outside her suite, the noise was almost deafening as Alice ranted and raved. Jack braced himself and stepped in, his aunt immediately spinning around red-faced and practically breathing fire through her nose.

"Go away Jackie, I've no time for your idiocy!" she snarled. The four petrified policemen and the sobbing chambermaid who also occupied the room all looked at Jack with a sense of apology and a silent cry for help.

"Well that's nice" Jack said, stepping forward and noticing that the room had been effectively turned upside-down. "What the hell is going on, Aunt Alice?"

Alice, for once, ignored the normally abhorrent swear word and spun to point an accusing finger into the face of the tear-stained chambermaid.

"That girl stole my pearls!" she cried with absolute certainty.

"There's no proof of that, madam" one of the policemen said, sounding as if it was the hundredth time he had explained it.

"Proof!" Alice scoffed scornfully. "There's no other explanation!"

"Maybe you lost them" Jack suggested with a shrug. As Alice turned back to him, the look in her eyes genuinely made Jack believe for a moment that he would be turned to stone.

"I'll just... come along, Jones" he hurriedly said, backing out of the room with Ianto ghosting his every move.

"Kind of odd huh, Jones?" he said, as Ianto closed the door safely behind them. "Aunt Alice losing her pearls just after the Derbyshires gave me theirs to look after."

"Very much so, sir" Ianto replied, attempting to piece together the evidence in his mind. "Coffee?" he offered.

"Always Jones, thank you" Jack beamed, sinking into the sofa. The cup was barely in his eager hands before their peace was disrupted by a rapping at the door.

"If that's Aunt Alice Jones, tell her I've... I don't know... drowned in the bath" Jack sighed, deciding he wasn't abandoning his precious coffee for anything or anyone.

"Very good, sir" Ianto replied, and wasn't even vaguely surprised to find Harriet and Gerald Derbyshire's false smiles on the other side.

"Good afternoon sir, madam" he nodded, unsurprised when the two of them slid past him without so much as a glance, making a beeline for Jack.

"Good news, Mr Harkness!" Gerald announced, startling Jack to the extent that he almost spilt the brew onto the cream fabric of his seat. The loss of the coffee would have been more irritating than the cleaning bill.

"Gerald, good lord... and Harriet; always here when I least expect you" he replied with a tight-lipped smile and not an ounce of enthusiasm. The pair ignored his blatant distaste, continuing to gaze like orphaned toddlers.

"I'm able to repay the money you so generously lent us!" Gerald stated, looking abnormally pleased with himself.

"Oh, right, good." _Then you can leave me the hell alone forever._

"We're so relieved!" Harriet beamed, looking up at Jack with so many teeth on show, it was more of a grimace than an actual smile. "If you could just... let us have my pearls back... for which we have the receipt."

"Ahh, yes" Jack glanced around for the case and spied it on the coffee table, where it had lain untouched since yesterday's transaction. "Here you are."

Harriet took the case while Gerald pressed a few notes into his hand, before she snapped open the catch and her face fell.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I'm sorry Mr Harkness, it... it doesn't seem to be..."

Opening the lid entirely, Harriet turned it to Jack, who noticed the issue immediately – the satin-lined box was empty.

"Well how the hell... Jones, the pearls have gone!" Jack announced. Jones stepped behind his shoulder and peered over it.

"So it would seem, sir" he replied, far too calm and collected for Jack's liking.

"It's only been the two of us in here, where could they have got to?" Jack turned his head and Ianto stared blankly back.

"This is a most serious development" Gerald interrupted, his previously over-jolly expression suddenly grave. "A poor vicar is scarcely in a position to bear such a loss. The pearls were originally valued at some three _thousand_ pounds, Mr Harkness."

Ianto watched Jack's eyebrows rise in slow motion. "Three thou... Jones, a word."

Jack grabbed his valet by the elbow and abruptly dragged him into his bedroom, leaving the Derbyshires waiting expectantly in the lounge.

"What a freakish coincidence Jones, both Aunt Alice and I losing pearl necklaces!" Jack hissed in a theatrical whisper. Ianto had to force himself not to smile; he couldn't claim to be surprised that Jack had failed to ascertain their game, but he himself had understood with a blinding clarity what Harriet and Gerald were up to as soon as the former opened the empty case.

"Not entirely a coincidence, sir" he said cryptically.

"This is no time for your riddles Jones, what am I going to do?" Jack sighed, running a hand through his sun-lightened hair.

"Write out a cheque for three thousand pounds, sir?" Ianto suggested. Jack narrowed his eyes dangerously, so Ianto continued before he could start throwing threats around.

"Meanwhile, if you would engage them in conversation for as long as possible, I think I may be able to effect a solution."

* * *

Jack had never in his entire life thought he might grow tired of flirting. Yet here he was, a fat cheque hanging loosely between his forefinger and thumb which Gerald eyed whilst Harriet gaped and stuttered in reaction to Jack's smoothest lines. Reciting them to an unwilling audience, he was suddenly struck by their hollowness with a disturbing clarity. What concerned him was just how _shallow_ he was making himself seem; it was as if he was outside of the conversation watching the whole affair, seeing himself wheedle out of yet another unpleasant situation by using his so-called 'charm'. Was this how everybody saw him?

He was pulled from his introversion by Gerald cutting hurriedly in with a nervous laugh, reaching carefully for the cheque.

"If you'll forgive us Mr Harkness, we really must be leaving. We're due for the four o'clock train..."

"Ohhh no, you should stay!" Jack argued lamely. "Stay for coffee! You haven't lived until you've tried Jones's coffee. You'll need it for the journey."

While he was busy grinning at an anxious Harriet, Gerald deftly snatched the cheque and hungrily examined the amount.

"Thank you Mr Harkness, but no. You will find your reward in heaven, for this" he said, waving the slip of paper.

"No chance of something a bit sooner, I suppose?" Jack asked in all seriousness, staring mournfully at his own signature alongside far too many zeroes.

Gerald and Harriet let out tinkling laughs that matched in condescension and potential to irritate, as they rose from their seats

"It really is time for us to leave, Mr Harkness" Harriet reiterated, moments before Jack's salvation arrived back at the suite in the form of his valet, who looked quietly triumphant as he took up his place a step behind Jack.

"Ahh, Jones. Any luck with the... err..." Jack floundered, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Everything is in order, sir" Ianto replied, turning away for a moment to retrieve the abandoned jewellery case, cracking it open a final time before pivoting towards the rapidly retreating siblings.

"Your case, madam" he nodded, offering it back to Harriet, who waved it away.

"It's just an empty box" she shrugged.

"I insist" Ianto replied, pushing it into her hand with a conformable smile. Harriet looked into his eyes for the first time, a flicker of distrust gleaming in her own before she gave a tight smile back.

"Thank you" she muttered. Jack continued to stare at Ianto, waiting (impatiently and in vain, it seemed) for his valet to save the day. He was just beginning to mentally curse the young man for being infuriatingly difficult to read, when the sergeant whom his Aunt Alice had been abusing entered the room without knocking.

"Ahh, Mr Derbyshire I believe" the policeman said, frowning squarely at Gerald.

"If I might suggest a course of action sergeant, I think you may find it worth your while to examine the contents of that jewel case" Ianto explained at a casual pace. He felt Jack looking blankly at him, but gazed directly at the box as he fought against a victorious grin.

"This? It's empty!" Harriet laughed, Gerald joining her after a tense hesitation.

"Let's take a look, then" the sergeant insisted, snatching the box from the sister and parting the catch. The Derbyshires gasped simultaneously as it was revealed that atop the satin cushioning sat a string of perfect off-white pearls.

"Jones... it's the pearls!" Jack announced.

"Yes sir, I am aware of that" Ianto murmured to him, his gentle tone telling Jack to shut up and stop making an arse of himself.

"Alright Dapper, the game's up" the policeman announced, producing a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"Oh, gawd" Gerald growled, his delicate lisp-ridden voice replaced by a gruff Cockney accent, matched by his 'sister' as she pointed at Jack and cried "I knew 'e couldn't be as gormless as 'e looked!"

"You'll be charged with fraud, obtaining money by deception, and the theft of a pearl necklace; the property of Miss Alice Harkness."

The case and the cheque were pressed into Jack's hands, and Ianto had to pity the poor man as he was clearly still attempting to understand the unfolding scene.

"Wh... so... these are Aunt Alice's?" Jack clarified, rattling the pearls in their box.

"I took the liberty of extracting them from Miss Derbyshire's luggage, sir" Ianto informed him.

"'Ere, that's illegal, that is! I'll 'ave the law on you!" Harriet yelped, continuing to babble about Ianto's crimes as she was led away by the elbow alongside her accomplice.

"Let me get this straight, Jones" Jack said as his suite swiftly emptied around him. "They stole Aunt Alice's pearls from her, and then stole them again from me?"

"Indeed so, sir. Mr Derbyshire is in actual fact a well-known confidence trickster known as Dapper Jim Derbyshire. He and his wife work their way along the coastline every year."

"Wife?"

"The lady calling herself 'Harriet', sir."

"But Harriet Derbyshire was keen to marry _me_!"

"_Mrs_ Derbyshire was the one responsible for removing the pearls from their case while you were writing a receipt for her, sir."

Ianto watched with no small degree of amusement as every part of the sorry tale finally slotted into place inside Jack's head. The other man's face slowly split into a grin, before he murmured "good lord, Jones... you _are_ brilliant!".

"Very good of you to say so, sir" Ianto replied, lifting his chin in triumph.

Jack opened the case once more and tipped the pearls onto his palm, rolling them between his fingers as his smile grew even wider.

"I shall enjoy this" he beamed, dropping the box onto the sofa and making his way to Alice's suite with Ianto ghosting behind him.

Predictably, Alice's assault on Jack continued as soon as she laid eyes on him, and he took everything she had to say with an indulgent smile, until she paused for breath and he noticed that the chambermaid from earlier remained in floods of tears, backed into a corner.

"Is that poor girl still crying?" he asked, smiling gently as she caught his eye. She seemed to calm immediately and smiled shyly back.

"It's remorse, she stole my pearls!" Alice snapped, and the girl's reddened face crumpled again.

"Pearls? Well, that's a coincidence. These aren't the little fellas, are they?" Jack asked, opening his palm to reveal the neat pile of beads.

Alice spun around, prepared to tell him once again to cease his imbecilities, but she was forced to do a double take as Jack hooked the pearls over a finger and waved them in her face.

Jack almost stumbled with shock as he realised that his aunt was genuinely speechless.

"Wha... how did..." she stuttered.

"I got them from your friends, the Derbyshires" Jack explained, dropping the necklace into Alice's hand.

"The _Derbyshires_? And how did they come into the possession of the Derbyshires?"

"They damn well _stole_ them, that's how! That's what they do for a living, they're thieves! I don't want to rub it in, but you do realise that if you'd succeeded in getting me hitched to that girl, I would most likely have had children who sneaked my watch while I was dandling them on my knee!"

"Jackie, dearest-"

"Now I'm not a complaining sort've guy, as a rule, but I should say that in future, you might be just a _little_ bit more careful how you go about matching me up with felonious females."

With that, Jack grinned so broadly that it lit up the room, and left several people intensely smug and one utterly devastated.

"I owe you one, Jones. A _big_ one" Jack muttered to his valet as they he led them to a swift exit from the hotel.

"Thank you, sir" Ianto replied, allowing himself the smile that he'd been holding back.

"I think perhaps I should avoid the hotel for a while, wouldn't you say?"

"Very wise, sir. Would you like me to stay and attempt to minimise the potential damage?"

"Hell no, if she comes after me, I'm relying on you to talk me out of a fatal blow! You're my intellectual bodyguard" Jack beamed. Ianto bowed his head slightly in reaction to the power of that affectionate grin.

"I try my best, sir" he murmured.

* * *

"Jones, just take off your shoes."

"I'd really rather not, sir."

"I insist! We're on a beach, the weather is beautiful – you should be making the most of it."

"It wouldn't be proper, sir."

Jack sighed and pressed his own toes deeper into the sand, relishing the dusty warmth as they strolled along merely a foot or two away from the water's lapping edge. To him, Ianto looked overdressed and uncomfortable in his pristine attire and gleaming Oxfords. He had long since stripped down to his own undershirt, drawing the disapproval of several and the appreciation of many more, but he was far too concerned with his companion to notice.

"I don't _care_ about 'proper', Jones, and you shouldn't either. I thought we were past that?"

He turned to his valet and attempted to look hurt. Although he was quite certain that Ianto could see directly through him, the young man gave his own long-suffering exhalation and relented, stooping to pull off his shoes and tuck his socks neatly inside them.

"Satisfied, sir?" he asked dryly, squinting at his employer against the glare of the late afternoon sun.

"Ecstatic!" Jack replied. "You know Jones, you got me out of a serious pickle back at the hotel... in fact you get me out of a good deal of serious pickles, yet you never make me feel like a moron for not immediately grasping the situation or being able to work my way out of my myself." Jack's voice became soft, almost shy, as they resumed their walking.

"I don't think you _are_ a moron, sir. Far from it" Ianto replied. It wasn't that Jack was stupid, it was more that he was a man who wore his emotions on the surface, and allowed them to get the better of him. For a man like Ianto who valued his own control, it was clear that Jack more often than not felt before he thought, and as such landed himself in scrapes that he was quite often innocent to. There was also the issue that Jack tended to cling to the good in people, and he liked to think that the average person was completely trustworthy. Ianto was the first to admit that he himself was far more cynical.

"You're probably the only one who harbours that opinion" Jack laughed, though the tone was pained.

"Reputation is what the world thinks a man is, sir. Character is what he truly is."

"Who said that, Jones?"

"I did, sir."

"Oh. It sounded like a quote."

"No, sir. If there is one thing I've leant about you, Mr Harkness, it's that _what_ you are and _who_ you are are worlds apart."

"Perhaps the only man more guilty of that than me is you, Mr Jones" Jack said, his voice soft and sober.

Ianto turned his head and gave Jack an apologetic smile.

"I think my own mask comes more naturally to me than yours does to you, sir. It drains you."

Jack stopped walking and stared at him, all of himself open in his glossy blue eyes. Though he had been aware that Jack was different with him than with his friends, Ianto was abruptly struck by the sheer magnitude of the trust Jack had willingly handed to him almost from the first moment they met. He was, in that moment, intensely aware of how important that was to a man like Jack.

Trapped in that shared emotion as they were, only one of them could see the heavy leather football flying towards the vicinity of Ianto's face. Jack was forced to break the moment and yank his valet aside, the ball just missing them both and landing in the sea with an anticlimactic splash. Still clinging to Ianto's arms, Jack lost his footing on the unstable surface of the sand and fell forwards, pinning Ianto beneath him as they each groaned with the impact.

"Sorry!" Jack gasped, a moment before realising that they were dangerously close to the shoreline. As the frothy edge of the water crept towards them, threatening to soak both of their suits, Ianto shoved them both away from it and they rolled together until they were a safe distance, with himself ending up on top. He was the first to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it, Jack following as they eyed the water and simultaneously turned to one another.

As their eyes met, the laughter died, leaving them each breathing heavily and frozen in position. Jack felt his pulse thrumming in his own ears, as Ianto shivered in response to the laboured breaths against his face. Their noses met, just the merest brush – enough to make Ianto take a deep inhalation and pull back as best he could.

"I should go... sir" he murmured, voice rough and strained. Jack didn't respond, couldn't respond, except to silently mourn the loss of body weight as Ianto struggled to haul himself upright. Without another glance at his employer he scooped up his discarded shoes and abandoned him to the sand with his shoulders hunched, his sense of duty chastising him for walking away while the rest of him screamed for distance.

Jack laid where he was for a while longer, flinging up a forearm against the sun. His already convoluted mixture of feelings towards his loyal valet – the intimate trust, the affection, the attraction (he _was_ very handsome; who was Jack to deny that?) – seemed at once blurred and magnified and all of a sudden breathtakingly important.

Waiting for his heartbeat to slow, he succumbed to a sense of foreboding that he'd felt before. That one which only came to him on very rare and very serious occasions, which told him to tread carefully, stay calm, and don't do anything foolish. In other words, to not under _any_ circumstances be himself. The horror of the idea of losing Ianto due to some awkward complexity on either side struck him in the gut, and he knew he couldn't allow that to happen. To hell with the disquietingly intimate gazes... to hell with the fact that when Ianto was on top of him, he'd felt the physical desire to arch and pull him yet closer... he _had_ to keep his valet content and by his side, even if that meant lying to them both. He absolutely refused to lose the only true friend he had ever known.

Ianto breathed deeply through his nose as he walked, loathing the sand for slowing his escape. More than once his composure crumbled and he had to rapidly blink the burn away from his eyes. Being so close to another person, so free and uninhibited, was too much; his entire existence ached to be alone and most certainly _not _around Jack, whose manner and smile and that alluring _scent_ constantly encouraged him to lose his reserve. He knew that he had to reclaim some of that lost propriety; it was his armour.

But did he really _want_ to?


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Afternoon, buoys and gulls - it's that time again already. I had _amazing_ responses to the last chapter! I suppose this one is more in-fill than anything, but stick with me; it'll be worth it.

* * *

"Ahh, there you are, sir. I have begun packing your suitcase; I assumed that you wished to return to the city sooner rather than later. Miss Harkness has made a swift exit and a note from her awaits your attention on the coffee table. Do you have any particular requests for supper, sir?"

Jack eyed his valet as he bustled coolly around the suite, wondering just how long he'd been lying in the sand for Ianto to have transformed himself from the spooked and agitated young man who abandoned him on the beach, to the persona he had adorned that first day he stepped gracefully into Jack's life. Ianto was, once again, immaculate in appearance and apparently unflustered. Not a hair was out of place and his Oxfords gleamed, unscuffed by the shore rocks. Jack had to wonder if he had simply spent all day alone beneath the rays and their little _moment_ was a hallucination born of sunstroke.

"Err... no no, Jones, whatever we've got in will be just fine" he said, playing along but watching Ianto closely as he strode through to the lounge to retrieve the aforementioned letter.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting to walk into on his arrival back, but to hazard a guess he would have said a certain degree of tension and embarrassment; perhaps they would have awkwardly talked it out, with very few words (as gentlemen do) and said no more on the subject. Jack had hoped for that outcome. He was slightly disturbed by Ianto's complete glossing-over of the incident, not because his pride was hurt by the minor form of rejection involved in that (and surprisingly, it wasn't), but due to the ease with which Ianto slid flawlessly behind his mask and locked it into place. Jack had been quite confident that when it was just the two of them, those barriers were down for them both. Despite his acquaintance with Ianto's stoic side, he'd become so used to its gradual reduction in opacity that to see it fully-formed once more was startling.

Ianto felt a sense of calm as he firmly engrossed himself once more in the monotony of everyday tasks. He was firmly of the opinion that whatever he didn't wish to think about could be ignored and, eventually, forgotten – despite all experience to the contrary. For now, the last thing he wanted to focus on was Jack's tender gaze, the naked emotion in his face and the full body contact they had shared less than an hour ago. It was that which troubled him the most, the sensation of closeness which he had accepted as something he may never experience again. He had been at peace with that assumption. Now his normally organised mind was thoroughly askew, yet the very concept of discussing it made him physically wince. He reminded himself of that old cliché, _ignorance is bliss_, and set about preparing vegetables in the safe haven of the kitchen.

A familiar yelp of panic punched through Ianto's thoughts from the direction of the lounge, followed by a stream of expletives which almost made him chuckle. He heard Jack's footsteps storming closer, and turned in preparation, ever obedient.

"Have you read this, Jones?" Jack demanded, face strained and panicked.

"No, sir. Is it displeasing news?"

"You've met my aunt, what do _you _think?"

"I think that the probability of displeasing news is reasonably high, sir."

"Well, quite..." Jack thrust the paper into Ianto's hand and motioned for him to read it.

_Dearest nephew,_

_It is with greatest mortification that I have left Porthcawl, partially on the rather abrupt suggestion of the hotel manager as well as due to an acute embarrassment at having misjudged the terrible Derbyshires (or whatever their names are) so thoroughly. Honestly though Jackie, you can be so thoughtless... there was absolutely no need to humiliate me in public. Your parents would have been appalled._

_However, it is my duty as your aunt and guardian to forgive and continue to educate you. As it happens, there is a young lady of my acquaintance in Cardiff I wish you to meet, who I am certain is of good stock and a fine nature. She is perhaps not so pretty as you are used to, but a grounded girl is just what you need. _

_Come to my house as soon as you return from Porthcawl, Jackie. We shall forget this little mess ever occurred and have you settled before you know it. You are far too old to still be a bachelor, and it's beginning to show._

_Warmest regards,_

_Aunt Alice._

"Most troubling, sir" Ianto commented, folding the letter. A small part of him felt a sense of relief at the prospect of going back to the everyday routine of bailing Jack out of woman trouble.

"'Troubling' is a galactic understatement, Jones! She thinks I look _old!_"

Ianto's eyes swivelled of their own accord and he chose to ignore Jack's vanity.

"How do you propose to remove yourself from this equation, sir?"

"By leaving. A holiday, Jones!" Jack grinned, suddenly animated as the idea dawned on him. "Somewhere very far away..."

"France, sir?" Ianto suggested.

"I said _very_ far, Jones. I was thinking... New York? Since I happen to have a spare three thousands pounds which I very nearly lost..."

Ianto arched a brow. "Have you heard of a little something called 'prohibition', sir?"

"Yes thank you Jones, I am aware of how the modern world works, but even I would give up alcohol to be million miles away from my aunt!"

"Not quite a _million_ sir, the distance between Cardiff and-"

"Jones, drop that potato and finish packing; I want to be out of Porthcawl within the hour!"

* * *

Ianto, with all of his astounding efficiency, had a suite upon the next liner crossing the Atlantic booked for the next day not twenty minutes after arriving back in Cardiff. He had spent the journey attempting to ascertain whether Jack was serious about fleeing to the United States simply to avoid his Aunt Alice, and come away from it almost feeling convinced that it was good idea. Jack's enthusiasm was worryingly infectious, and as a man whose worldly experiences only reached as far from home as London, Ianto couldn't help but wonder about visiting such a vast and sprawling place as The Americas.

What both of them were feeling a little apprehensive about was the six-day-long journey within close quarters on an inescapable ship. Jack's vow to reel in a little of his outward affection for Ianto was put to the test as even when they parted, he would manage to be pulled to his valet, who often stood apart from other passengers against the barriers of the boat, allowing the harsh wind to whip about his face as he stared at the sea. Jack had to wonder what he was thinking about, since he couldn't imagine a time when Ianto's mind was still and relaxed.

Ianto found far too much time to think, during the trip. A vague fear of the open ocean (which he hadn't realised was within him until stepping foot on the ship) kept him from sleeping, as the roar of the water and the creaking of the walls around him slowly made him certain that at any moment, his bed would crash through the floor and drop him into the brutal ocean. Once that image had burned its way into his mind, he began to wonder whether it was a metaphor for his life; a constant fear of losing control of himself and becoming drowned in something unfamiliar. He was far more aware than he once had been that Jack was only on the other side of the wall, and thought about what a man like him dreamt of until finally, he would exhaust himself.

The relief was almost tangible when finally, Liberty Island honed into view. Jack tugged excitedly at Ianto's arm as he pulled him to the edge of the deck, squinting up at the statue.

"She's a fair size, Jones! Reminds me of Gwen Cooper in that green gown she wore to dinner at Ystradgynlais Hall."

"The similarity is remarkable, sir."

In a fashion entirely typical of him, Jack didn't bother to hide his wide-eyed glee as he leapt into the nearest available taxi and they sped through the city. With him thoroughly distracted by their surroundings, Ianto found time to absorb the place too. Five minutes on land was enough to tell him that he could never come to a place like this alone. The sheer scale of the city and the constant rushing busyness of the inhabitants made him feel exceedingly small and dull, though a familiar rush of fearful adrenaline was coursing through him as he had felt when he first ventured to London.

"Is this your first visit to New York, sir?" Ianto eventually asked, as Jack craned his head out of the car window to stare at an especially imposing skyscraper.

"It is, Jones. All my years in the States, and this city feels like a different world" he beamed. "A perfect place to celebrate your birthday, wouldn't you say?"

Ianto turned to him, blinking rapidly.

"You knew that it is my birthday next week, sir?" he asked, amazed that Jack had taken the time to discover such a trivial thing.

"Of course! I like to make a habit of celebrating friends' special days Jones, even if they don't want to" Jack smirked. "So decide what you want and let me know. I might even take you out and show you off if you're very lucky..." he said, turning back to stare through the window again as he trailed off. Ianto remained silent; not so much as a witty quip passed his lips. Jack squirmed in his seat and focussed instead on the landscape as they approached the magisterial-looking hotel.

Once inside and after a quick tour of the gigantic suite, Jack made a flimsy excuse about needing a breath of fresh air, and abandoned Ianto to the mercies of the enormous living space. Ianto slowly examined each room, brushing his fingers over a few surfaces, deciding that everything felt intrinsically _foreign _to him. It was cold and gleaming, glass and chrome, and a wave of homesickness struck him in the chest as he stood at the lounge window watching the smog-filled city below.

Silently, Ianto cursed Jack for breaking down his defences to the extent that instead of busying himself with unpacking or familiarising himself with the coffee maker, he was allowing himself to wallow in loneliness. It frightened him how much more difficult it was to repress his emotions than it once had been. Now they made unwelcome visits to his mind at often inexplicable intervals; they kept him awake, and they interfered with his work. For the first time, feeling as lost and troubled as he was, Ianto began to entertain the idea of leaving Jack's service.

* * *

"Jo-ooones, I'm home!" Jack called as the door swung closed behind him, chuckling to himself. "Home; I like the sound of that" he beamed. Enjoying his first hour alone in a new city and returning with with two little presents for his valet had him in an exceptionally good mood. He listened for footsteps in the hallway, frowning when Ianto didn't emerge to greet him.

Walking slowly towards the lounge, the haunting tinkle of piano music floated into his consciousness, and he immediately softened his steps. After a few moments, he smiled when he recognised it as _The Very Thought of You_, the first song he and Ianto had played together after that unexpected evening in the pub. The tone of the song, however, took on an entirely different tone when played by only two hands, and the smile dropped from his lips.

Peering around the door frame (grateful that he had remembered the layout of the suite well enough not to walk into anything and disturb his valet), he watched from behind as Ianto's graceful hands stroked the ivories, his shoulders squared and spine rigid like a true artist. The new, sad, solo sound of the song disturbed the dusty vault of Jack's own personal solitude and he inwardly sighed. Distancing himself from Ianto was going to be more difficult than he had imagined, when half of the time there was something about the young man that spawned in him a consuming desire to put an arm around him and protect him... from what? He didn't need protecting... but that didn't alter the fact that Jack wanted to.

The music tapered off with a slight flourish, and Jack clapped his hands together softly so as not to startle the player. Ianto turned his head ever so slightly to the side, but he didn't flinch, and he didn't immediately rise from his seat. Allowing himself a moment to solidify his composure, Ianto finally straightened himself up and tucked the stool neatly beneath the piano, turning to Jack with a disappointingly impassive expression.

"Glad to see you're practising, Jones" Jack nodded.

"Forgive me sir, I've yet to start unpacking. I became slightly sidetracked" Ianto admitted, looking more apologetic than he felt.

"If the result is beautiful music, who am I to argue?" his employer smiled, though it was strained.

"How was your walk, sir?" Ianto asked, effectively changing the subject and glancing around the room to find something to busy himself with, inwardly cursing how clean and perfect everything already was.

"Very refreshing, thank you Jones. Actually, I only dashed out to get you this..." Jack stepped forward and pressed a brown paper-wrapped package into Ianto's hands. Unfolding the coverings, Ianto found inside an extremely expensive-looking box of fresh Columbian coffee beans, which he immediately brought to his nose to sniff.

"Well, it's not just for you admittedly, but neither of us function especially well without your coffee, and the two of you go together so naturally..." Jack explained. "It's the good stuff so it should be up to even your high standards, Jones."

"Thank you, sir" Ianto said quietly, not taking his eyes away from the packaging.

"I got you something else too" Jack said in a similar tone, "again, not really _for_ you, but I very much had you in mind."

Ianto lifted his eyes, and couldn't restrain his smirk as Jack fixed his newest acquisition atop his head.

"Well, Jones? What do you think?" Jack prompted, taking a spin and tilting his head for the full effect.

"I think, sir..." Ianto began, finding the lead weight in his chest dissipating by the simplest act of Jack buying yet another terrible hat for his exasperated amusement. "I think that an automatic weapon inside a violin case would complete the look admirably."

Jack burst into uproarious laughter, the new accessory slipping into a rakish angle when he threw back his head.

"That is above and beyond what I was hoping for, Jones!" he chuckled, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. Ianto let his smile grow wider, forgetting in an instant that previously overwhelming sense of _unbelonging_. Jack stopped laughing and caught his gaze, his smile softening until Ianto's vanished and he looked away. For the second time that afternoon, Jack mentally kicked himself, and cleared his throat.

"No need to cook for two tonight Jones, I'm going out" he announced, plastering on what he hoped was a sunny smile. Ianto frowned just for half a second and looked as if he were about to say something, but he settled for a brief nod.

"I don't know when I'll be back" Jack continued quietly.

"Very good, sir" Ianto replied, the very definition of stoicism, before turning on his heel and walking away.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Well, here we are again! I wrote this chapter in advance, in preparation for visiting my BFF for a long weekend, so here I am uploading it from the other side of the country in order to not let my readers down. See how good I am to you?

As a result this isn't perhaps as long as I'd have liked, but I do know where it's going, so stay patient with me (please?). Enjoy!

* * *

The first few days in New York were little more than a blur for Jack, punctuated by hangovers and pranks with the group of friends he had inexplicably acquired on his first night out. He had only been in the first jazz bar for ten minutes before working out that they absolutely _did_ serve alcohol – the trick was knowing what to ask for. Half an hour later, he had a small silver teapot full of 'iced tea' (code for 'gin and tonic') in front of him, sipping the bitter liquid from a china teacup and watching beautiful dark-skinned flapper girls fling themselves about the gaudily-lit stage.

His new friends were loud, rambunctious and lived for fun. With half a pot of 'tea' inside him, that seemed like the perfect combination, and after a full pot he was entirely certain that these kinds of friends were precisely what he'd been missing back in Cardiff.

It was only in the mornings that he was inclined to agree with his Aunt Alice – he _was_ beginning to look his age. Ianto's Miracle Brew, as he had continued to call the wondrous beverage which transcended ordinary coffee, never failed to make him feel right as rain once more... but still he had to wonder how long he could keep running from Alice's insistence that he settle and spawn and give up his life of fun and pleasure for domesticity.

With enough booze in him, his remaining thoughts were only of staying free and single forever, until he was the last one in the taxi, less than half-conscious and furiously swiping at his eyes which too often began leaking without his permission. If he was willing to admit it to himself, he would have acknowledged that the only time that the loneliness truly abated was when a strong body pulled him from the lift and dragged him to his bed, gently removing his coat, blazer and shoes and tucking them away before leaving him to sleep it off. Except that he couldn't afford to dwell on that truth, not when he was doing such a fine job of avoiding the man he was desperate to keep close.

Ianto's own first days in New York could not have been further towards the opposite end of the social spectrum. He immediately became a hermit, spending his time moving them fully into the apartment and rearranging anything that could be moved. He left the hotel only to collect sustenance, finding himself physically shying from the hustle and bustle of the world around him as he felt increasingly detached from home.

It took three lonesome days to admit to himself that he missed Jack's constant waffling, his childish begging for food or coffee, his horrendous manners and even worse choices in accessories. The realisation did firmly remove any concept of leaving his valet post, but if he didn't leave, he would have to at least speak to the other man. His sense of duty informed him that he had no right to dictate what Jack did with his life, and it didn't escape Ianto's attention that he had never actively _wanted_ the company of an employer before Jack. He had also never become friends with any of them... though the word still felt an odd one to apply even to Jack.

Ianto supposed he could only blame himself. He had sought out the distance and Jack had only followed suit – which was, on reflection, remarkably astute of him. Now he was coming home every night (technically _morning_), drunk out of his skull and mumbling to his valet about having no other friends in the world but him. Ianto rarely responded, concentrating on half-carrying Jack to bed and avoiding the judgemental gaze of the lift attendant, who always scanned Ianto's pyjama-clad body with a certain distaste before handing over the burden of his semi-conscious employer.

Now, a full week following their arrival in New York, Ianto stood upon the balcony almost unimaginably high off the ground, attempting to piece together a small speech along the lines of the fact that he was finding it impossible to enjoy life in this foreign land without a suitably social-minded companion.

At the usual time, on the dot, an industrial-strength cup of coffee was placed carefully on the bedside table, and the familiar sounds of protesting groans filled Ianto's ears as he yanked aside the curtains to flood the musky-smelling bedroom with light.

"You are a sadist, Jones" Jack croaked, until he caught the aroma of his hot, spicy beverage and grabbed the cup, knocking half of it back as he would a shot of some cheap spirit.

"Will you be venturing out today, sir?" Ianto asked, moving from the window to take in Jack's dishevelled appearance. His washing and ironing duties had doubled since being here, as every evening his employer had been too inebriated to climb out of his day clothes. The collar of his sky blue shirt seemed to be adorned with a long, glossy, scarlet smear, about which Ianto chose to make no comment.

"Yes Jones, I shall" Jack replied, voice clear and sober as caffeine coursed through his veins. Ianto felt a familiar pang of disappointment, about to turn as Jack continued; "just for a few hours this afternoon. Don't think I've forgotten that your birthday is on Thursday" he grinned.

Ianto's eyebrows twitched upwards simultaneously, but his eyes remained guarded.

"In all honesty, I had assumed that you'd forgotten, sir" Ianto admitted. He thought that at the very least, Jack would have drunk away that piece of information.

"Well, that just proves what little faith you have in me, doesn't it?" Jack teased, hauling himself cautiously out of bed. "So, have you decided what you want?"

He began to shamelessly strip directly in front of the uncovered window, his valet dutifully standing a few steps behind with one arm crooked, ready to take his smoke-soaked garments.

"It really isn't necessary, sir. I have failed to think of anything that I wish for." _Except to go home._

Jack spun around incredulously, dropping his shirt over Ianto's forearm and rolling the kinks from his shoulders.

"Come off it Jones, you haven't had a birthday until you're friends with Jack Harkness! Anything you want, name it."

"A pint of home-brewed bitter at my favourite pub back in Wales, sir" Ianto replied, deciding he had nothing to lose. Jack laughed, and Ianto resisted the urge to scowl.

"You may have to wait a little while" Jack lightly replied, "I don't know when we'll be going back. There's still so much to explore, Jones! You really should get out more and experience this wondrous place."

"There is far too much to do here, sir. Your clothing takes quite a battering during your nights out."

Jack looked sheepish as he let his trousers fall.

"Yes, well... perhaps I've been hitting the sauce a little hard this week, Jones" he admitted. In fact, it had struck him two nights ago halfway through his first 'pot of coffee' (whiskey and soda water) that the fun he had thought he was having was merely the spectral ghost of fun. What followed was a profound sense of déjà vu, and that feeling of hollowness which he had only been able to identify on meeting his valet. The unpleasant knowledge that he was wasting his life with trivia and drowning out all sense, when all of that time he could have been in the fulfilling company of somebody like Ianto Jones.

_Damn him for proving what my Aunt Alice has been telling me all along, _Jack thought; _I've been a coward and a wastrel for all this time, and just when there's somebody with me who has already begun to turn me into a better person, I push him away..._

It took another two days of separation for him to come to a flimsy decision – cold turkey wasn't going to work. He could spend time with Ianto and not cause any more uncomfortable moments... couldn't he? The final straw was seeing just how tired and thin the young man seemed since their arrival in New York. He may not have needed protecting, but he clearly needed to reclaim his sense of structure. He was lost without his routine; that much was obvious even to Jack.

The corners of Ianto's mouth flickered slightly in an expression of disapproving amusement which Jack had come to revel in. It was only the merest hint, but it was there.

"Perhaps a _little_, sir" he murmured.

"So, I've decided to lay off, sober up and take less risks of getting arrested. American police aren't like Welsh bobbies, Jones – shoot first, question later – and there's no need to damage this perfect form, is there?"

He spun in only his underwear to prove his point, rewarded with a long-suffering eye roll.

"If you say so, sir."

"I do, Jones. Now, if you'd care to run me a bath, I'll be out of the hotel to find you the perfect gift and back in no time at all – even if you _will_ insist on making it difficult for me. Damn stubborn Welshman..."

* * *

Within an hour – and after a _vast_ Welsh-style breakfast courtesy of his all-too-forgiving valet – Jack found himself between the glossy oak shelves of a gloriously diverse bookshop, run by an overwhelmingly cheerful man who had told Jack his life story before he was even past the counter. He scanned the modern literature and sneered at all of it; none of it, he was certain, would appeal to Ianto.

It was the exquisite leather-bound and gold-edged copy of Wilde's complete works that finally caught his eye. He caressed the spine before plucking it from the surrounding colonial poetry books (Jack made a mental note to tell Ianto of that bizarre placement – his excessively organised persona would recoil in horror) and smiled at the excessively lavish cover. Although he couldn't be sure whether Ianto was a Wilde fan, Jack decided that Oscar's humour suited his valet down to the ground. Wilde himself had a duel personality which he passed on to so many of his characters, and that was something the young man shared to a certain extent.

Confident that he'd found The Gift, Jack strode distractedly towards the counter with his eyes on the book, only to fall victim to a stream of indignant noises as he walked into the back of a woman far below average height. She spun around, her straight and glossy hair whipping around her face, and gaped at Jack who stumbled back with surprise.

"Jackie Harkness!" Toshiko exclaimed, her face framed by the enormous collar of her heavy fur coat.

"Good lord, Lady Sato!" Jack nervously replied, feeling a phantom pang in the bridge of his nose at the memory of her knuckles connecting mercilessly with his face.

"What on earth are you doing in New York of all places?" she demanded to know.

"Oh, you know... taking a little break from it all" Jack beamed. Toshiko raised an eyebrow.

"A break from what, exactly? Don't tell me you've broken the habit of a lifetime and got yourself a _job_" she scoffed.

"No" Jack replied, not even pretending to look sheepish. "By 'it all' I mean my family."

"Well, you always were selfish as anything Jackie" Toshiko sighed, looking him over with indifference until her eyes fell upon the book.

"Wilde, Jackie? You read _Wilde?" _she asked, a rare smile ghosting her lips. Jack realised with astonishment that she was... _impressed_.

"Of course!" he said, puffing out his chest like a preening peacock. Well, he'd seen an amateur production of _The Importance of Being Earnest_ in university, and read half of _Dorian Gary_...

"Good lord" Toshiko breathed. Yes... definitely impressed. "Perhaps I was wrong about you, Jackie."

Her dark gaze fluttered over his frame again, seemingly weighing up her options rather than deciding upon worthiness of being within her presence. Once, Jack would have taken that as the ultimate invitation. Now, he had to physically restrain himself from dashing from the shop, any vain glee he was experiencing suddenly killed dead.

"No no, I don't think you were" he laughed nervously. She laughed off his protestations with a tinkling sound that jarred him to the core even more than her penetrative stare. She flicked a lock of thick black hair away from her face, and something on her finger glinted in the low light.

"Is that... are you _engaged_, Toshiko?" Jack asked, frowning. She looked at the ring as if only just realising it was there, and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, yes, I am" she said, clearly less than ecstatic about it. "To your old friend actually, Doctor Harper."

"_Knobby_? I thought you positively loathed him!" Jack said with an incredulous laugh.

"Well, he followed me about like a trained puppy for so _long, _I eventually just grew tired of it and said 'yes'" Toshiko sighed. "He's around somewhere, never far behind me. But here _you _are, Jack Harkness... reading Oscar Wilde in my favourite bookshop, looking more handsome than usual... it seems like fate, doesn't it?"

Her smile grew until she showed teeth (which Jack was sure he'd never seen before), and he didn't restrain from stepping back that time.

"Well, it was lovely to see you Tosh... Toshiko... Lady Sato... but, err... I'd better buy this and get back to my hotel now..."

"Jackie!" cried a familiar voice from the doorway and there Owen was waving to him, his grin wide until he looked between his friend and his friend's ex-fiancée. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and he stood possessively beside Toshiko, taking in Jack's appearance.

"Stupid hat, Jackie" he commented.

"Thank you Knobby, I know I can always rely on your unwavering support" Jack smirked. "How long are you two in New York?"

"Not long" Owen replied, at the exact moment Toshiko said "a while yet". Their eyes met and, naturally, Owen was stared down within moments.

"I expect we'll be seeing a lot more of you, Jackie" Toshiko said, stepping forward and gently brushing an invisible fleck of dust from Jack's tie, before abandoning both men and sauntering out of the shop, noticeably more sway in her hips than usual. Owen's dark eyes followed her until she was out of earshot, before he stepped into Jack's personal space, his mouth pressed into a wide, thin line until he resembled a toad.

"Listen here Jackie, none of your funny business with Toshiko" he hissed. "You pissed her about enough when you were engaged to her; now she's mine and you will _not_ take her from me!"

"Knobby old man, I absolutely _do not want _Toshiko Sato!" Jack murmured, eyes wide with horror.

"Of course not" Owen sneered. "You turn up in New York, all tall with tanned skin and perfect teeth, just _happening_ to be in the book shop she comes to every other day... I know your game, you smarmy bastard. Keep away from my future wife."

Owen emphasized his point with a few hard prods against Jack's chest, before turning on his heel and rushing to Toshiko's side. Jack blinked into nothingness for a few moments as he processed that exchange, before he slumped, groaning against a shelf. _Why does drama have to follow me? _he thought to himself, bringing the weighty book up to his face and dropping it heavily against his forehead with a sigh.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

It's that time again!

Long chapter is _epically_ long this week. I very nearly split it into two, but I think that my poor frustrated readers would have just given up on me entirely if I had. I hope this makes up for all the tension!

As always, thank you for all the reviews, favourites and alerts, and don't stop letting me know what you think. I heart you all.

* * *

Jack's return to the hotel suite was, as Ianto had become thoroughly used to, punctuated by a slam of the front door and a dramatic sigh. The downside to that was that his employer had struck upon some sadly inevitable blockade, most assuredly involving somebody he called a friend making his life more difficult. The upside was that Ianto could be there to listen and aid him, and it had been too long since a good old-fashioned bailing-Jack-out-of-trouble adventure.

"Sir?" Ianto said as he swept into the hallway ready to accept and assuage the brunt of Jack's exasperation. Jack turned and broke into an exaggerated smile on sight of his faithful valet.

"See, Jones? Told you I'd be home in no time" he said, flashing teeth.

"Apparently our definitions of 'no time' vary somewhat, sir" Ianto teased, "you were out of the hotel for no less than seventy-four minutes."

Jack tutted. "I'm going to take that stopwatch off you one of these days, Jones."

"The cruellest of punishments, sir" Ianto replied, stepping behind Jack to slip his coat from broad shoulders since his employer was making no moves to shrug it off.

"Oh, sorry Jones... miles away" Jack mumbled.

"Did you experience a troubling encounter, sir?" Ianto asked, hanging up the heavy wool garment and idly brushing his hands down the sleeves of Jack's blazer.

"Actually Jones, yes" Jack sighed, leading the way through to the lounge and dropping down in his usual endearingly graceless fashion onto the sofa. A cup of coffee was immediately placed into his hands with a sliver of almond biscotti decorating the saucer, and this time, the smile that he graced Ianto with was genuine.

"Thank you, Jones" he said in all sincerity, taking a luxurious sip before continuing. "I bumped into Tosh and Knobby..."

"Lady Sato and Doctor Harper, sir?" Ianto clarified, eyebrows raising towards his hairline as he unthinkingly settled down opposite his employer.

"The very same. And Toshiko has a beady eye on me" he shuddered, attempting to drown out the very idea of it with his bitter, smoky beverage.

"Forgive me sir, but after the incident with the daffodils, I thought that Lady Sato did not look upon you favourably?" Ianto gently pointed out, fondly remembering the string of expletives as he dabbed at Jack's wounded nose with ice.

Jack glanced sideways at him, grateful for the delicacy.

"She didn't, but apparently even my odious character can be salvaged by being spotted with a good book in hand" he sighed.

"You were in a book shop, sir?" Ianto asked, trying not to put too much emphasis on the '_you_'. Not that Jack wasn't well-read to a certain degree, but Ianto could envisage him acting like a bored child if he spent too long in a book shop, longing to run around outside eating sweets.

"I'm going to ignore your tone, Jones" Jack growled, but Ianto knew that the chastisement was in good humour. "Yes, I was, and apparently Toshiko finds that vastly attractive."

"I imagine Doctor Harper had something to say about that, sir."

"You knew they were engaged, Jones?"

"Yes sir."

"Nobody tells me anything!" Jack announced, stuffing the entire biscotti into his mouth and devouring it loudly before washing it down with the last remnants of coffee. Ianto waited patiently for him to finish, strangely rapt by the tale.

"Anyway" Jack sighed, brushing crumbs from his lap, "as soon as Tosh was out of the way, Knobby all but threatened my damn _life_ if I didn't stay away from his woman, as if I was the one melting all over _her_ literary choices!"

"Were you reading one of her own books, sir?" Ianto asked, imagining that Lady Sato was just shallow enough to fall in love with a man who was willing to read one of her books for pleasure and not simple obligation.

"No, it was-" Jack stopped mid-sentence, his distraught expression morphing into one of sheer pride as he stared into Ianto's enquiring eyes. He leapt up and dashed into the hallway, Ianto awkwardly rising to his feet, unsure if he should follow.

Jack returned a moment later with a paper bag in hand, his smile turning shy as he held the package tenderly.

"I know it isn't your birthday yet, Jones" Jack began, clearing his throat, "but I can't keep a secret, so..." he pressed the heavy rectangular parcel into Ianto's hand and gave him a nod of encouragement. Ianto slipped his hand into the crisp packet and drew the book out slowly, running his fingers over the leather and opening it with reverence to flick through the gold-edged pages.

"Is this a first edition, sir?" Ianto asked in quiet awe. Jack nodded, fiddling with his own fingernails.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly. The concerned catch in his voice was plain to hear, and Ianto met his eyes in an attempt to show his gratitude more aptly than words would do.

"Yes, sir" he murmured. "Thank you."

He looked back down at the thick volume, tracing the author's name with his thumb. If he'd ever mentioned to Jack that he was a fan of Wilde, he couldn't remember doing so, and it seemed unlikely. There was nothing to not enjoy about his writing, in Ianto's humble opinion, and he thought of books as a truly precious commodity. Jack really couldn't have got it more right if he'd plucked the idea straight from Ianto's mind.

Realising that Jack was staring at him, he shifted from foot to foot for a moment, before timidly reaching out a flattened palm to shake his employer's hand. He couldn't say he knew the protocol regarding receiving birthday gifts from a master, not having experienced it before. Well, not unless it was a new mop head, or shoe polish, or something else that he would merely have had to go out and spend the housekeeping on anyway. A gift from the heart that required thought and effort... this was new territory.

He heard Jack tut, and looked up just in time to see a hand reach forwards and clamp onto his own shoulder, before Jack dragged him flush against his own body and wrapped both arms around him. After a few seconds Ianto responded, tense and surprised, but he held the other man almost as tightly as Jack was holding him and allowed his chin to drop onto Jack's shoulder.

"Glad you approve, Jones" Jack said quietly, "God knows you need a little humour in your life, and I haven't been much company lately."

Ianto felt a twinge beneath his ribcage, relaxing into the embrace slightly more.

"Your wardrobe provides me with more than enough entertainment, sir" he replied, feeling far more comfortable inducing their usual teasing banter than with the prospect of a serious conversation about Jack's recent absence. He no longer felt the need to discuss it, eternally thankful instead that the strain had eased of its own accord.

Jack laughed loudly and pulled back from him, his hands curling loosely around Ianto's neck as he tilted his head and smiled. His lips parted and his brow furrowed, as if he were about to say something terribly earnest, but then he visibly shook himself and the grin returned.

"Nice tie" he settled for, touching the knot before his hands dropped away completely. Ianto's arms lingered around his waist a little longer before the fact that the connection was lost caught up with him, and he shuffled back a couple of steps.

"Thank you, sir" Ianto replied, glancing down at the deep vermilion silk and back up into Jack's tender eye line. "Ahh, there was a... err... call for you, sir" he said, silently cursing his lack of composure.

Jack snapped out of his trance at the mention of something beyond the blue of his valets eyes, and grinned.

"Oh? I must be especially popular today. Who was it?"

"A gentleman by the name of Mr Arwen, sir. He wished you to confirm that you will be attending his soiree this evening."

Jack thumped the heel of his palm against his forehead with a groan.

"Damn! Alex's party! I'd completely forgotten" he sighed.

"He was quite insistent, sir" Ianto added, recalling the impatient tone to the American stranger's voice as Ianto calmly explained to him, several times, that Jack wasn't at home.

"I don't even have an outfit" Jack grumbled. "It's fancy dress. Besides which, I'd rather be here."

"It may be a good way to avoid Lady Sato and Doctor Harper, sir" Ianto pointed out from a practical point of view. "It won't take the former long to discern where you're staying, if she is as determined as it sounds."

"But..." Jack began, shifting a little shyly from foot to foot. "What about you?"

Ianto smiled, looking almost startlingly serene all of a sudden. Jack swelled with pleasure with the realisation that he was the cause of that, with a simple gift... and he liked to think that the hug may have had something to do with it also.

"I'll be losing myself in my new book, sir" he replied, grasping the volume in both hands. "As for an outfit... leave that to me."

* * *

Two hours later and Jack stood spinning in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, rather enjoying the look of himself in his party outfit. More than usual, at least.

"You've outdone yourself, Jones" he beamed.

"I realise it's a little obscure, sir" Ianto said apologetically, sweeping his hands lightly over the ankle-length coat, "but there was very little left at such short notice in your size."

"Oh Jones, admit it, you just got this to feed my ego" Jack laughed, flattening his slicked hair as it attempted to resist the oil which Ianto had painstakingly combed through it. Ianto drew himself to full height and peered at Jack's reflection from behind, raising an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't dare, sir" he dryly replied. Jack chuckled, fiddling with the epaulettes.

"Come on, I'm the perfect RAF hero, look at me" he span once more, stopping in front of his valet with his arms spread. "They won't even realise it's fancy dress!"

Ianto smirked ever so slightly, eyes roaming over the painted 'brass' buttons and ribbon trim which was clearly sewn on in some degree of haste, but aside from those small details Jack did indeed look quite the authentic pilot.

"What rank would these make me?" Jack asked, pointing to the patches on his outfit.

"Captain, sir" Ianto replied, quietly impressed that the costume makers had bothered with such details.

"I like that" Jack beamed. "Captain Jack Harkness... and you are?" he leered, holding a hand out to Ianto.

Ianto rolled his eyes, but decided to play along just this once.

"Jones, Ianto Jones" he announced, taking Jack's hand and shaking it briskly.

"Nice to meet you Jones, Ianto Jones" his employer replied. "Like the suit, by the way. Not enough handsome young men so smartly dressed these days."

"Sir, you'll be late" Ianto reminded him, enjoying the silliness though he was. Jack had a way of making him think that nothing else mattered but the space between them, that life was easy and all was free and simple. He enjoyed that feeling, but he didn't like to spend too much time languishing within it. If he did, it might lose its potency. However, he realised now that he had so missed it during their time avoiding each other, and was reasonably sure that Jack felt the same.

"You're right, Jones" Jack sighed, checking his pocket watch before tucking it back into his waistcoat. "Are you _sure_ I can't convince you to come along?"

His expression was so open and inviting that Ianto almost caved, but instead he simply smiled and shook his head, finally content where he was.

"Thank you sir, but I have a pressing date with Mr Wilde."

"I don't know who I'm more jealous of" Jack winked, and things seemed absolutely right. "Enjoy your evening and don't wait up!"

Jack turned to the door, swishing his uniform for effect as he went, only turning back when Ianto's melodic voice called him.

"Sir?"

"Jones?"

"Love the coat."

* * *

It took a good thirty seconds of pummelling on the apartment door for Ianto to become aware of the sound, so absorbed was he in _A Woman of No Importance_. Feeling strangely exposed out of his official uniform and in a simple jumper and trousers, he answered the door regardless with all the dignity he could muster, not entirely surprised to find waiting for him Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper.

"Alright, Jones?" Owen offered in greeting, squaring his shoulders in a vain attempt to seem more appealing in the presence of a taller, broader, younger and more handsome man.

"Good evening Doctor Harper, Lady Sato" Ianto greeted them. He chose not to question why the man was standing in the doorway dressed as what he assumed was meant to be Boris Karloff's version of Frankenstein's monster, while Toshiko bore a striking resemblance to Medusa. Both seemed apt, he thought.

"Where's Jackie, Jones?" Toshiko asked, raising her chin impatiently.

"Out for the night, Lady Sato" Ianto explained. The woman tutted loudly.

"Do you know where?"

"No, ma'am."

"Curse his timing! We were going to invite him to Alexander Arwen's party with us" she sighed, and it didn't escape Ianto's notice that Owen's jaw clenched in a manner which suggested he'd fought against the idea and lost.

"Apologies ma'am" Ianto forced a subservient smile, mind racing as he battled to think of a reasonable idea for withholding the pair of them from the same party Jack had gone to. Uncharacteristically drawing a complete blank, he watched them leave before closing the door and beginning to pace the hallway. Jack had gone to the party, on his own advice, to avoid the couple... thus, Ianto felt obligated to release a pre-emptive strike which would keep the trio apart for several hours in the same building.

But how?

* * *

Ianto pushed the hem of the silken scarf further up the bridge of his nose with a leather-cloaked finger, examining with narrowed eyes the people around him. It hadn't taken too long to throw together a disguise, aided by the same costumers who had kindly helped him to acquire Jack's RAF uniform. The idea of turning up at the party as himself and letting his employer know that he was there was unacceptable, particularly with the added presence of Toshiko and Owen, to whom he had lied regarding any knowledge of Jack's whereabouts.

So it was that he found himself dressed as the classic image of a highwayman, a mask over his eyes as well as covering his nose and mouth, tricorne on his head, heavy cloak around his shoulders and leather accessories covering anything that might be recognisable. All that showed were his eyes, which he would hide beneath the brim of his hat were he spoken to by any of the three that knew him.

Ianto stalked around the attendees, quickly spotting Toshiko surrounded by a gaggle of admirers with Owen straggling unhappily in the background. By the looks of it, she hadn't yet located Jack. After several minutes, Ianto realised why – _he_ couldn't find Jack either. He circled the main room twice, politely dodging any attempts to speak to him, then checked the bathroom, the kitchen... but drew the line at peering into a stranger's bedroom on the off-chance that his employer might be there. If he was, Ianto absolutely didn't want to know what he was doing.

He supposed he should merely have been satisfied that Jack wasn't being harassed by his old flame and so-called friend, but he found the man's lack of presence cause for concern. He knew that if Jack had gone back to the hotel and found it empty, he would worry. The fact that he could be angry on discovering his valet not at his post didn't occur to Ianto,but thinking back to how hard Jack had fought to find him during their separation remained fresh in his mind and he disliked the concept of affecting Jack's unequivocal trust in him.

Ianto's eye was caught by the open glass doors that led onto the balcony, and he slid through the surrounding throng to grasp some peace and space to think.

Jack's coat blew satisfyingly around him; he felt powerful high up and in the open air, as if he could take on the world. In a situation like this where he had no control, it was a small mercy.

He has spotted Toshiko and Owen the moment they arrived, prising himself immediately away from the clutches of a striking Far Wray lookalike and creeping in a manner which he prayed was inconspicuous towards the balcony. The ledge curved further than the window, leaving a small space at either end where one could hide and not be seen by anybody on the other side of the glass. Provided neither Toshiko nor Owen required a breath of fresh air at any point, he would remain there until he saw them leave the foyer directly below. It would be a long night.

The sudden company of a a tall figure dressed head-to-toe in heavy black made him jump and quickly turn his head, relieved when he found that no such body was possessed by the pair he was avoiding.

"Jesus, you startled me" he grinned. The figure seemed to glance back towards the party, as if unsure whether to stay, before he raised a hand in an apologetic gesture and took up residence at the other end of the balcony.

"Not your scene either, huh?" Jack asked. The figure shook his head.

"Are you here with anybody?"

Ianto shook his head again, but his inherent grasp on manners would not allow him to not ask the same question back. He settled upon the flimsy notion of putting on as neutral an American accent as he could manage and to speak as little as possible, though he disliked the deception.

"You?"

"No" Jack sighed, "there's no-one."

Ianto risked raising his head to take a long look at him. Jack was staring into the brightly-lit horizon of New York City, the edges of his air force coat dancing in the breeze, and his expression closed. It wasn't a look that Ianto was terribly familiar with. Was this how Jack presented himself to strangers? Did he even realise it? Ianto was aware that most people who came across Jack Harkness and his electric personality would describe him as terribly warm, friendly and wearing himself on his sleeve; but his valet, knowing better, saw only a self-conscious little boy who worked so hard to keep it together, he wasn't even sure who he was. In that single instant Ianto could see every facet of the other man... before he realised what Jack had just said.

"No-one?" he repeated, licking his dry lips behind the scarf. A smile flickered across Jack's profile.

"Well, perhaps just one" Jack murmured, reflecting on how peaceful he had felt since he and Ianto had regained their easy equilibrium. It was the simplest thing in the world to tease him and laugh with him; the ultimate pleasure to see a genuine smile upon his lips, crystal eyes dancing with mirth even when the young man was clearly fighting against it and for his own sense of propriety. When Ianto had said '_love the coat_', his accent seeming exaggerated as his eyes raked over the garment, it had taken all of Jack's strength not to march over to him and kiss the smirk off his face. Whatever his feelings were for Ianto, they seemed to escalate with every word and each glance, and Jack had to wonder if he was simply confusing an intense friendship with genuine desire. In that sense, it was jarringly similar to his relationship with Doc Smith, and he was too old for that kind of complication.

Either way, he could only ever think of Ianto with an acute fondness. He had plans for his birthday whether the young man wished for the fuss or not, knowing that he had neglected him recently and intent on making up for it. Jack would never cease to believe that Ianto Jones deserved far more than he ever received or would dare ask for.

Remembering that he had company, Jack turned back to the cloaked figure, not failing to notice that the head ducked lower as he did.

"Nice outfit" he said innocuously. "Especially the gloves. I should get some of those for my valet... it could be kind of kinky while he's polishing the silverware."

Jack chuckled to himself as Ianto glanced down at his hands clutching the railing. He flexed his fingers and wondered why Jack would make that kind of comment to a stranger – the kind of comment he wouldn't hold back from saying to Ianto. For a moment he thought that Jack had seen through his disguise, but it seemed deeply unlikely. There was nothing to give him away and Jack simply wasn't that shrewd.

More importantly, who was the _just one_?

Both men flinched at the sound of an unnecessarily deafening screech from the other side of the parted glass doors, Toshiko's voice cutting through the breezy night air.

"Owen Harper, will you STOP following me around like a hungry mutt!" she shouted, clearly drawing closer.

"What am I supposed to do? Somebody mentions that Jackie sodding Harkness is here and you start flitting about like a horny hummingbird! There's no way I'm taking my eye off you! And if I see _him_, I'm going to punch his lights out..."

"Shit" Jack breathed, glancing at the stranger with a pleading look. "I need to disappear. Now."

Ianto leaned around to peer through the doors, noting the approach of the squabbling couple. He stepped casually across the gap and squeezed into Jack's corner of the balcony; it was far too small for two grown men, but as he blocked Jack from the view of any who ventured out here, his employer simply grasped as his cloak and pulled him closer.

Ianto dipped his head and closed his eyes, pressed chest-to-chest against his employer as small clicking heels could be heard behind them. His only option was to wrap his own arms around Jack's shoulders, completely concealing him, hat hiding his face too. Jack was entirely enveloped by the almost silent stranger, and as his face was pressed against the man's neck, his only thoughts were of how _wonderful_ he smelt. There was something familiar and deeply comforting about the scent, and he slowly raised one hand from the man's cape to touch his jawline through the mask.

Ianto froze, unsure of just how close Toshiko and Owen were whilst achingly aware of how close Jack was.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, barely a breath escaping through silk.

"Who _are_ you?" Jack asked in response, pinching the dark fabric between thumb and forefinger and slowly peeling it downwards.

Panic swelled upwards from Ianto's belly, too deep within his adopted persona as the to consider the prospect of revealing himself now. He felt the mask slide over his nose, grateful for the shroud of shadows which embraced them. Jack's touch was so breathtakingly tender, Ianto could barely stand the contact.

"Jackie, are you out here?" an impatient voice called as Toshiko stepped onto the balcony, and Ianto did the only thing that he could think of as his mouth was freed from its covering, the impending threat of being discovered coupled with the menace stalking Jack throwing his mind into chaos until he could no think straight.

He pressed his lips against Jack's.

Jack gasped as the stranger's mouth connected with his own in a tentative collision, immediately parting his lips and accepting the touch. The other man's hands dropped to rest lightly on his hips, and when he heard a very loud, very female shriek from several feet away, he knew that without the blockage of the cloak that he had been seen – seen kissing a man by a woman he was trying to avoid. The irony of it was not lost on him.

His hands slid up the stranger's neck and played with the neatly-trimmed hair at the nape, mind blissfully clouding over when a velveteen tongue tip reached out for his. The man he was pressed against was warm through his heavy outfit, and gentle in how he kissed and held Jack; perhaps even shy. Jack had a great deal of experience to draw on, but could honestly say that this passionate exchange with an unseen unknown stood out as a beacon amongst them.

Ianto heard his own pulse in his ears, further losing his iron grip on his sense of control as Jack's taste, smell and body heat attacked his senses. It was too powerfully illicit, kissing his own _male_ employer on a balcony whilst in disguise; too bizarre and too _right_. Jack's tongue touched the roof of his mouth and he couldn't help but moan, hearing the creak of fine leather as he gripped Jack's hips with a force he wasn't aware he possessed.

"Oi, Harkness! Have you officially gone queer, or what?" a gruff Cockney accent growled from behind Ianto, and the men breathlessly broke apart. That panic in Ianto's gut rose once again and he shakily dragged the mask back up his face before either of them could see him.

"Knobby, just go back inside and stalk Toshiko or something" Jack said with a harsh edge, trying to hold onto the man who was swiftly disentangling himself.

"Like fuck, I will! Toshiko's in there telling everybody you're sucking the face off some bloke!"

Ianto could _hear_ Owen's self-satisfied grin, and his face burned beneath the fabric. He wrenched himself free of Jack's grip and turned to shove his way past Owen, diving back into the crowd. Jack scrambled to follow, halting himself when he saw the speed with which the figure in black was fighting his way out of the flat.

"Hey!" he called uselessly, before letting out a heavy sigh. Owen clapped him on the shoulder, letting out a too-cheerful sigh.

"Ahh well, tough luck mate. Not worth getting chucked in prison for."

Jack spun to face him, eyes narrowed. "You know what, Knobby? You're a two-faced, shallow little asshole and I honestly don't know how I ever called you a pal."

Owen raised his hands in defence.

"Woah, Jackie, I don't give a toss who you kiss!"

"Except that when you catch me with a man, you suddenly lose the urge to _punch my lights out_ even though I told you from the start that I didn't want to be with Toshiko? What kind of friend switches between those emotions so quickly and trusts so little? I'm done with narrow-minded people like you holding me back, Owen – don't bother coming to visit and eating all my Turkish Delight when we're back in Cardiff. You're just like my aunt, and Christ knows I don't need any more negativity in my life" Jack growled, hunching his shoulders as he stalked through the crowd. He could hear Owen yelling something behind him and he was vaguely aware of a few disapproving looks being thrown his way, but his sole focus was getting out and going home to the one person who gave a damn.

* * *

Ianto kicked what he hoped was the last of his outfit beneath his bed, fighting the urge to pull all of it out and fold it carefully into neat piles. He dragged on some charcoal trousers and a maroon jumper, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair in an attempt to grasp at that elusive sense of decorum he normally lived by. His mind insisted on flitting back to those memorably intimate moments which had punctuated his relationship with Jack; the times wedged onto the piano stool singing a love song, the lingering looks which were always broken by himself, Porthcawl beach... Ianto didn't believe in fate, but he did believe that there was a certain inevitability to life. Judging by the intensity of his relationship with Jack from the start, perhaps the disintegration of yet further boundaries truly was inescapable.

The realisation should have been distressing.

Jack slid silently back into his flat, loathe to wake his valet, though in actuality all he wanted to do was slip under the covers with him and sleep alongside a comforting presence. Jack had spent the taxi drive home with a head full of warmer than usual thoughts regarding the young man, forcing himself to admit that it was partly due to guilt. He had kissed a complete stranger, and he'd _loved_ it. It somehow seemed like a betrayal... because it was a man? Jack had enjoyed a particularly swift and satisfying entanglement with a woman on the ship from Britain, and though he did feel a sense of guilt (both morally and because of not only his feelings for Ianto, but the knowledge that he could have been keeping the young man company on a lonely boat rather than canoodling with frisky girls), the unpleasant sensation he was experiencing from only a kiss with another man was more powerful.

Stepping into the lounge and switching on a single light, his eyes were drawn to something still and shimmering on the sofa, dark and hastily abandoned, it seemed. He hooked a single finger beneath the scrap of fabric and held it closer to the light, very dark red in colour and creased at each end, as if it had been knotted.

Logic slotted into place in his mind like a slick jigsaw as he brought the silk up to his nose and inhaled deeply. That was why the man smelt familiar. That was why he didn't want to be seen. That was why he disappeared into the night.

A click behind him and a startled breath told him that Ianto had managed to return first.

"Sir, I wasn't expecting you back so early" he said softly, though his voice was edged with a masculine roughness which was inherently _him_. It seemed so damn obvious, now.

"The only appealing company left me on my own" Jack replied, turning to his valet with the scarf still in hand. He watched realisation dawn on Ianto's face, those eyes trailing down to the silk and back up, growing wide with fear as the colour drained from his face and gathered in the tips of his ears.

"Sir" he breathed, backing more tightly against the wall behind him. His employer stalked towards him, and the only name Ianto could put to the powerful emotion in his face was _anger_. He had deceived him... and he had taken liberties. Jack had every right to be furious.

But then they were only a few inches apart, and though Jack's jaw was clenched tight his eyes were soft and sparkling, filled with an unnameable emotion as he stared into the face a man he no longer wished to resist admitting all he felt for. To Ianto, he seemed utterly naked in that single expression, edged with a rawness from which he could not look away.

"Ianto" Jack replied, letting out a tightly-held breath as their lips met for the second time that night.

As Jack unashamedly ran his hands up the young man's spine and Ianto's fingers clutched at his employer's nape, each man was struck dumb by the unfamiliar notion that he was _exactly_ where he wanted to be... and where he _should_ be.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Record number of reviews achieved for the last chapter; thank you, my darlings. A lot of people were grateful for the fact that I didn't drag out Jack's realisation, which I was never going to do for that situation, and several drew comparisons with Phantom of The Opera which I've never seen and don't know much about, so that's entirely coincidence! Most importantly, everybody seemed happy with the way I finally brought them together, so I'm epically pleased.

And to the anon who asked me who my beta is – that's very sweet, but I'm the only one who checks my writing.

This chapter was extremely tricky to write, because it's the only one so far not based at all on any story from Jeeves and Wooster or even Torchwood – it's just our heroes extending their new levels of intimacy (but I don't think this is classed as M rated). As always, let me know what you think.

* * *

Jack Harkness had never seen his valet's bedroom.

At home, he had simply ensured that the space was furnished with the necessities when he moved in, and not felt any need to venture into there since. To him, it was merely a doorway. What lay behind was an enigma, another world hidden within his own.

If he had not been so focussed on the intoxicating texture of Ianto Jones' lips as he was led through that mythical passage, a foreign space he had truly _never_ laid eyes upon, he might have taken a moment to glance around and appreciate the clean, simplistic arrangement around him that was so very _Jones_. It seemed unimportant in comparison to tracing his hands up and down the sides of Ianto's ribcage and sucking at his lower lip as if it was the source of life itself.

Reality bit at the edges of Ianto's mind only when the backs of his calves hit the foot of the bed; the contact startled him and he broke the kiss with a sharp breath, searching in the dark for the glint of Jack's eyes. His employer stared back at him, hands firmly locked around Ianto's waist and his expression more free and open than Ianto had ever seen. The smile which softened his shadowed features was one of unquestionable adoration, but more than that... something Jack did not hand over lightly... _trust_.

Ianto felt a rolling surge of desire run through him, something he had thought was forgotten if not dead. It began where his lips still prickled from the eager ministrations of Jack's own, burned unfocussed images through his mind and tore through his veins, collecting at his groin where his trousers painfully constricted his swelling cock.

"Please don't ask me to leave now" Jack whispered, a flash of insecurity flashing across his face that made Ianto realise he had been staring for too long. He shook his head, swapping their positions in order to gently push Jack down onto his bed. The man went willingly, his long blue-grey coat parting to reveal the rest of his uniform as his body dipped the mattress. Unable to resist, Ianto combed both hands through Jack's hair, disturbing the military style he had forced it into earlier in the evening and teasing it into its usual disarray.

Jack simply watched him, more than content to take... _this_... at Ianto's own pace, and allow him the control he needed. When Ianto was satisfied with his hair, the scalp now tingling with the impression of tender fingertips, he kissed Jack deeply once more. When the young man slid Jack's coat and braces down his shoulders, Jack moaned his appreciation. And when Ianto pushed him flat onto his back and loomed above him, wild yet tentative eyes stripped of their careful mask, Jack knew that he was more than halfway in love with him already.

Realising that even more than control, Ianto needed a little direction, Jack took a tight hold of his hips and pulled them down flush against his own, grunting with the hypersensitivity of their aroused flesh grinding together through maddening layers of fabric. It was all Ianto required to begin shakily unbuttoning Jack's shirt, the plastic discs sliding through easily with the fabric stretched so tightly across Jack's heaving chest.

Jack continued to kiss him sporadically, realising that it was different from the caresses he had shared with the man in the mask. Those had been passionate but fearful, illicit, like the kiss of a condemned man. The symbolism of the brief removal of that scrap of silk was not lost on Jack. The way his valet kissed now was more self-conscious but it was raw, naked, an explosion of what had been buried very, _very_ deeply for the longest time.

When Jack sucked upon the hinge of Ianto's jawline just beneath his ear, the young man above him let out the most erotic sound imaginable and involuntarily rocked his hips, the friction becoming almost unbearable as his skin screamed for the touch of another. Dragging Jack's shirt-tails from the waistband of his trousers, he was finally able to slide his hands beneath the blue cotton and shove it aside, pushing himself up only far enough to take a long look at Jack's bare torso.

He had seen his employer both semi and fully-naked countless times... yet never before had the sight of his bare skin caused a previously unknown burn low in his belly, the re-emergence of his long-lost sense of sexuality. Running his hands upwards and over Jack's pectoral muscles, he was surprised to discover that Jack's gender truly didn't trouble him. There were the legal implications of such an affair... but morally, all he knew was that he wanted this man, and emotionally, it was undeniable that Jack's extraordinary personality had brought more pleasure into his own life that he had ever expected to enjoy.

Gripping the hem of Ianto's jumper, Jack stared up at him, his heart thudding beneath the heat of a palm as he murmured "may I?". Ianto nodded and reluctantly removed his hands, instead raising them as Jack sat up and peeled the woollen garment away, swiftly followed by his crisp white shirt until he was finally able to run his fingertips through the sparse dark hair which decorated Ianto's chest, feeling him shiver beneath the touch.

It had never escaped Jack just how beautiful Ianto was, and it was all he could think about as his lips were once again drawn to Ianto's and he began unbuckling of the young man's belt, savouring the action. The young man was intensely striking but he didn't know it, following a career which required him to blend into the walls even as his professional acquiescence lent an especially handsome edge to his face. Jack had never expected to see him like _this_, his barriers at least halfway stripped down, pupils wide and depthless as his his throat glowed pink, spreading to his cheeks. Jack could feel the heat of it even if he couldn't see it clearly, knowing he was projecting the same warmth.

Suddenly the heel of Ianto's palm was pressing against his aching groin, and he thrust his tongue deeper into his valet's mouth, the motion mirrored by his hips. If he had been awaiting the delicate brush of fingertips on his bare cock when finally it sprung free from his trousers, that expectation died when Ianto's tight, damp fist curled around him and he hissed through his teeth with the shock of it. All he could think to do was copy the gesture, capturing Ianto's shuddering breath in his mouth.

Ianto clung with his spare arm around Jack's shoulders, fingers occasionally straying to his hair and neck as he was at once weakened and empowered by the pressure of Jack's hand stroking him in the same steady rhythm he was applying in turn. Kissing devolved into heavy breaths against open mouths, the walls seeming to close in until it was only the two of them with no awareness of what lay beyond. When the strain of sitting upright became too much, Jack fell back onto the mattress ensuring to keep Ianto clasped tight against him, relishing the low moan he was rewarded with when he twisted his hand around the slick head of his cock.

When Ianto came, he forced himself to keep his eyes open to watch Jack's spiralling ascent into his own joyful eruption. It felt like being reborn, his body bending and arching to the will of Jack's skilled fingers and his employer doing the same for his own humble efforts. He felt... cleansed. Jack's entire body trembled beneath him and he gasped Ianto's first name as he had before. It felt equally foreign but twice as rousing, especially since his American accent caused him to slightly mispronounce the word. It was like a private, intimate nickname, and the thought caused an almost debilitating aftershock as he was forced to squirm from Jack's powerful grip.

"Hey" Jack murmured, clamping both arms around Ianto's back to hold him in place. Their slippery stomachs pressed together, but Ianto couldn't find it in himself to be disgusted by the mess as he slid once more to Jack's lips.

"Would you... like a coffee, sir?" he whispered, startled when Jack's incredulous laugh cut through the peace of the darkened bedroom.

"Sorry" Jack chuckled, "you caught me off-guard. I wasn't expecting you to call me 'sir' in bed... but it's kind of sexy..."

"Would you like a coffee... Jack?" Ianto asked, the name tripping from his tongue more easily than he'd expected.

"It's after hours, you don't have to ask me that" Jack replied, his tone soft as he played with Ianto's sweat-dampened hair. "Why were you at the party tonight?" he continued, before Ianto could defend himself.

"Lady Sato and Doctor Harper arrived here to invite you to it, about an hour after you had left" Ianto explained, his elbows beginning to ache from holding himself up but struggling to find the will to change the situation. "I had to keep them away from you."

"No you didn't" Jack said softly. Ianto opened his mouth to argue, before he caught Jack's meaning.

"No, sir... I don't suppose I did" he conceded.

"But if you hadn't... _this_ wouldn't have happened" Jack said, fingering Ianto's open waistband and arching against the young man. Ianto closed his eyes, fresh arousal spreading its tendrils.

"Perhaps not" he sighed "at least... not _yet_."

"Do you believe in destiny, Ianto Jones?" Jack asked, slowly rolling them over to press Ianto into his narrow mattress and strip them both of their trousers and underwear, taking a moment to admire the long, pale body bathed in moonlight below him.

"Something akin to it, sir" Ianto replied.

"Since meeting me?"

"Since _knowing_ you, yes."

"Good."

The long, contented breath released by Ianto as his employer began to smother his groin with wet, eager kisses burned itself into Jack's mind to replay and cherish, those artists' hands sliding into his hair yet again while he began to devour his companion's flesh with a surging fervour that robbed each of them of both breath and coherent thought. Some time later, Ianto followed his lead, causing Jack to grip at the sheets so tightly that he feared tearing the fabric in his wanton state. The young man was as meticulous and eager to please as a lover as he was a valet, and as he hit his second peak, Jack's mind filled to bursting with possibilities.

"Are you staying here, sir?" Ianto asked, finally calm and spent as they lay nude and hip-to-hip. Jack's glazed eyes swept over the single bed and then locked onto Ianto's shining brightly in the darkness, a sheen of sweat highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, making him seem no less than ethereal.

"Only if you want me to, Jones" Jack replied. The space may have been too small for two grown men, but he couldn't think of a place he'd rather have been.

Ianto simply nodded, draping an arm across Jack's waist and allowing himself to melt into the mattress. He was dimly aware of Jack gently lacing together their fingers, and the spreading warmth which accompanied the action. In the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, Ianto had to ponder whether he had fallen asleep with his Wilde book and merely dreamt that he was a brave enough man to kiss his friend and employer, that said gentleman had reciprocated with a passionate keenness that left Ianto stunned and gasping, and whether the supreme sensation of being _loved_ was only a farce.

Lacking the will to spoil his current sense of easy peace, he chose to wait until the morning to discover what was reality and what remained within his solitary dreams. The body next to his own shifted and released a sighing breath next to his ear, and it was all Ianto needed to fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep, untouched by the flames of the past.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Evening, ladies and gents. I didn't think I'd manage to give you an update this week - I've had a rough weekend and had zero inspiration to write - but thankfully, Jones and Harkness refuse to keep quiet. Such is the result of my bad mood, this is quite fluffy and again, doesn't really relate to anything from either source material. Hopefully you'll still enjoy.

Thank you for all of the positive reviews for the first bout of erotica in this story. Will there be more? Well, _obviously. _

Enjoy!

* * *

"Good morning, sir."

Soft, deep vowels and the scent of coffee. Coffee and... was that pastry? Croissants, coffee and Ianto Jones. If that wasn't worth getting up for, Jack didn't know what was.

He reached above the haze of sleep to grasp at what he was missing by being unconscious, his eyes flying open as he broke through. It took him a few seconds to focus his eyes and his mind, but several things were immediately noticeable. One, he was in an unfamiliar room. Two, his valet was standing at the foot of the bed, in uniform and immaculately groomed with a fond and obedient smile. Three, Jack was naked, and his faux RAF uniform was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire room was spotless, save for the mass of tangled bedclothes.

"Good morning, Jones" he replied, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. His body was heavy and relaxed, and he didn't make any attempt to mask the fact that he was openly staring at Ianto's covered frame.

"Did you sleep well, sir?" Ianto asked with all sincerity.

"Absolutely, Jones. Never better" Jack grinned. "There's a certain peace to be found in curling up with somebody you like very, _very_ much."

His eyes darkened ever so slightly and Ianto smiled a little, his expression knowing and unguarded.

"I must agree, sir" he replied, and Jack dragged himself up to crawl naked to the end of the bed, kneeling up and leaning in for a kiss. Ianto allowed the touch but he didn't respond, and the widened eyes Jack was met with as he pulled back made him wonder for a second, with a surge of sickness in his gut, whether Ianto had had a change of heart overnight.

"Jones...?"

"Sir, I..." Ianto swallowed as he searched for the words. "This is... new to me. Perhaps, we could-"

"Keep it outside of work hours?" Jack gently suggested, his eyes fixed intently on those of his valet. Ianto answered him with a small sigh of relief, as laughable as the concept of 'work hours' in a twenty-four hour job seemed.

"Yes, sir. For now."

"Of course" Jack nodded, quashing a small flare of disappointment even as he gently rubbed at Ianto's upper arms. "But I won't stop flirting with you, I hope you realise that" he smirked.

"I would be concerned if you did, sir" Ianto replied. That was standard, as were the lingering looks and, apparently, the occasional hug. More than that was going to take some getting used to, and if this was meant to be, Ianto wanted to do it properly.

"Am I allowed to tell you that you look stunning this morning, Jones?" Jack asked, noting the new glimmer in his eyes and the glow of his skin.

"I cannot object to a statement of fact, sir" Ianto retorted, so utterly deadpan that Jack burst into helpless laughter, falling back onto the bed.

"Breakfast and a bath await you, sir" Ianto continued airily as Jack tried to calm down.

"You're a marvel, Jones" his employer replied, and Ianto nodded his thanks as he slid from the room to run the water.

He himself had awoken even earlier than usual and spent a long while thinking about the previous evening, one arm numb beneath Jack's snoozing weight, though he didn't mind. He found himself feeling only contented with the memories, and while not necessarily calm, certainly peaceful. The consistent prickling heat in his abdomen – a combination of nerves, excitement and arousal that he hadn't felt in such a very long time – was a world away from tranquillity as he had taken his time examining Jack's sleeping face and all that he had done and said in the dark heat of passion.

Ever the professional, Ianto had still forced himself to rise, wash, dress, tidy and prepare breakfast before his employer was awake, a wrench though it was to extricate himself from the other man's clinging embrace. He kept expecting himself to be suddenly struck by a debilitating panic attack, which of course he would shroud well, but it never came. It seemed as though Jack's very company was therapeutic, and certainly the bliss the other man had given to him the previous evening had relieved each and every strain of his body and mind, even if that was only temporary. That sensation Jack had always caused, of making Ianto feel like so much more than he was, had only intensified. Mind flitting back to how Jack had reacted to his touch, he felt that alien surge of power again, and wondered whether confidence was contagious.

He saw Jack in the reflection of the bath water before he heard him, and knew he was standing stark naked in the doorway without needing to look. Rising from the edge, he turned to his employer and made a studious effort to look him only in the eyes.

"All ready for you, sir" he said.

"I don't see Myfanwy, Jones" Jack said, glancing past his shoulder with a small pout. Ianto quickly dug into the mirrored cabinet above the sink and retrieved Jack's treasured rubber duck, placing her carefully amongst the bubbles.

"_Now_ it's all ready for you, sir" Ianto corrected himself. Jack beamed at him and gave his hand a subtle squeeze as he stepped past, sinking into the water with a satisfied sigh. Grasping Myfanwy, he placed her on his chest as he slid further into the bubbles until his legs were floating, the scent of stale sweat immediately being replaced by that of the spiced, musky bubbles.

"Perfect as always, Jones" Jack murmured, draping a long, slick arm off the edge of the porcelain, water dripping from the tips of his fingers. The look Jack gave his valet was so ardent and tangibly provocative, Ianto's only wish was to bite and suck at those fingers, and he almost physically jumped in reaction to how vivid that brief image was in his mind. Jack's smile grew, as if he could see directly into the window of Ianto's eyes and was watching the fantasy unwind. Ianto opened his mouth to say something, anything that might snap the pulsing tension hanging thickly in the steam-tinged air between them.

A brusque knocking at the door shattered the moment, Ianto breaking immediately away from his thoughts and Jack clearing his throat loudly as if his own mind had mirrored the thoughts within Ianto's.

"I should answer the door, sir-"

"Yes, yeah, why don't you... yes, get the door please, Jones" Jack stuttered, his cheeks seeming just slightly more rosy than they had a few moments ago. Ianto twitched a single eyebrow upwards and Jack sank further into the water, suppressing a groan. Watching Ianto step silently from the room, the perfectly-tailored fabric of his suit hugging at his broad shoulders and flaring slightly at the hip, he already wanted to break Ianto's sensible 'not at work' rule. One night of mapping the young man's body in the dark had him hooked. He wanted to know all of him... and show Ianto _everything_.

Fighting against the urge to let his hands slide beneath the waterline, he simply looked at his rubber duck and tutted.

"Myfanwy... what am I getting myself into?" he asked, prodding her plastic beak. Elated and terrified by the entirety of the past twenty-four hours, he found himself more concerned than ever that he was going to do or say something to scare his valet away. He no longer had to hide his attraction... but coming on too strong was a definite risk. Jack knew all too well how intense he could seem, and Ianto was so precious... he couldn't ever see himself without him, and he vowed once more to do _anything_ to keep him content with their situation, whatever the future might hold.

An unpleasantly high-pitched voice and a set of rushed footsteps startled him from the dream-like scenarios occurring behind his eyes and he jerked violently, water sloshing over the sides of the bath, as the door swung open on protesting hinges. Standing within the frame was Toshiko Sato with a face like thunder, and behind her, Jack's valet looked desperately apologetic. Jack offered a tight smile of forgiveness, before sitting upright and covering himself as best he could, sure that the black cloud above Toshiko's head was almost visible.

"Toshiko, this isn't your best timing" he said, glancing down at the bubbles which were making only a weak attempt to cover his flesh.

"Almost as bad as catching you kissing and molesting another _man_ last night, eh Jackie?" the woman sneered, openly repelled.

"Straight to the point, as always" Jack mumbled. "What business is it of yours, anyway? You're engaged to Knobby Harper."

Toshiko bristled, raising her slender shoulders. "If you MUST know, I had intended to tell you last night that I wished to give you another chance."

Jack reeled back the urge to burst into incredulous laughter, fearful for the general state of his face – or any part of his exposed body – if he did. Although he liked to imagine that Ianto would hold her back if she took a swing for him.

"I don't want another chance with you, Toshiko" he said flatly, choosing to be honest instead of simply laughing her out of the flat.

"Well _clearly_! You're _queer_!" she shrieked.

"I'm not" Jack said truthfully. He'd never been attracted exclusively to men. If somebody caught his eye or stimulated his interests, their gender simply wasn't important. He often wished that other people felt the same.

"You were kissing _a man_" she ranted, as Ianto grew increasingly uncomfortable behind her. "Do you deny it?"

"Nope" Jack sighed, "and I'm not confirming it either. It's none of your business, or anybody else's, so drop it."

"Who was it?" the woman demanded, stepping further into the neat little bathroom. Jack glared up at her, tired of her questioning now. So tired of it, he almost wanted to tell her, just to shut her up... but it only took one glance at Ianto's wide-eyed expression, imploring not to be publicly outed, to stop him.

"It's none – of – your – business" Jack repeated slowly.

"You do realise it's _illegal_, as well as disgusting. I should tell your aunt" Toshiko sneered, and Jack couldn't ignore the swelling annoyance any longer. He pushed down on the sides of the bath and rose up, towering naked above her with a glare which could kill small animals. Toshiko squeaked and covered her eyes, while Ianto smirked at his own shoes.

"Always got an opinion, haven't you Tosh? Even when you don't know what you're talking about" Jack huffed, laying a large, sopping-wet hand on her shoulder to spin her around and towards the door.

"Now, get out of my house, and don't come back. I don't associate with narrow-minded, prejudiced snobs... whose books are _shit_!"

"I'll escort Miss Sato from the premises, sir" Ianto said calmly, trailing the dangerously red-faced and spluttering woman until he was able to close the door behind her with more force than was necessary. He stole a moment to take a deep breath through his nose and release it slowly from his mouth, attempting to remove her poisonous opinions from his memory.

"I could have handled that better" Jack said ruefully as he strolled across the lounge, leaving wet footprints in the carpet while he wrapped a towel around his hips.

"I thought you dealt with her admirably, sir" Ianto replied, taking his time in turning towards his employer and raising his gaze to his face. Jack slowed his steps until he was just half a foot from his valet, that infamous smile melting away as his eyes flashed with sincerity.

"Don't listen to what she said, Jones" he said quietly, barely resisting the urge to cup Ianto's face in his hands. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"I know that, sir" Ianto replied, understanding precisely what he meant. "As I stated earlier, this is new to me... but I find myself... unconcerned by it."

Jack bit at his own lower lip, more relieved than he was prepared to admit by Ianto's composure regarding the subject. Relieved, and in no small measure, aroused.

"Are you sure I'm not allowed to kiss you during work hours?" he whispered, his smile returning. Ianto's eyes flickered down to his mouth – it was oh, so tempting – but he knew that for now, he needed to keep the two worlds separate. He didn't expect it to be easy, since they were together constantly, but his fear was being burned by the intensity of a relationship with no boundaries.

"Quite sure, sir" he made himself reply, though where he found the restraint when Jack smelt _just so delicious_, he had no idea.

"Damn you stubborn Welsh" Jack growled, but the twinkle in his eye ensured Ianto knew it was in jest. "I hope you don't think you're escaping my clutches tonight, Jones."

Ianto's Adam's apple bobbed helplessly while his expression remained passive.

"Sir?"

"I'm taking you out."

"It isn't my birthday until tomorrow, sir" Ianto pointed out.

"I know that. Tomorrow is your day off. Tonight you come out with me, and if we leave before six, it's still before official work hours end. So you have no choice, Mr Jones" Jack grinned.

"Very well, sir" Ianto replied coolly. "Is there a dress code?" he asked, gazing pointedly at Jack's naked torso.

"Black tuxedo and bow tie" Jack nodded, his eyes lingering on Ianto's choice of royal blue neck wear. "Try not to be too handsome."

"It seems an impossible challenge sir, but for you, I _will_ try" Ianto sighed, quietly revelling in the laughter in Jack's eyes.

"Tease" Jack hissed. "You'd better get into that beloved kitchen of yours before I decide to not take 'no' for an answer, Jones."

Ianto's mouth twitched at the corners and he stepped seamlessly around his employer.

"Very wise, sir. I need to scrub that lipstick stain from the collar of your best dress shirt."

Jack spun to face him as Ianto knew he would, but he was ready to speak before his employer had the chance to open his mouth.

"It doesn't matter, sir" he said gently, genuinely uncaring of Jack's past conquests. Jack still looked suitably ashamed, but at the same time he glowed with the easy acceptance.

"I don't think lipstick stains will be an issue for you in the future, Jones" he said. It was his way of saying that he didn't want anybody else, and Ianto comprehended his meaning completely.

"Good to know, sir. They're hell to remove" he replied, which was his way of reciprocating. Jack merely grinned, padding back towards the bathroom.

"Oh, Jones?"

Ianto turned and stared at the profile of Jack's body against the door frame, wondering whether he had ever looked so beautiful.

"Could you work some more coffee magic?"

Jack pressed his palms together in a praying gesture and Ianto could only smile with all of his affection for the other man in his eyes, nodding just once.

"As you wish, sir."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Pip pip, all!

We're slowly working our way back to the adventures again, which I'm making a few allusions to in this chapter. I wondered why my muse was forcing me to write fluff instead of shenanigans, but it makes sense to give them a bit of calm amidst the storm that is their strange little universe, allowing their romantic relationship to blossom on its own for a bit. I hope you're all still liking it.

As ever, let me know what you think, and enjoy!

* * *

"Will you _stop_ fussing, Jones?" Jack laughed, slapping Ianto's hands away from the bow tie he'd been fiddling with for several minutes. Ianto's own, of course, was perfect; completely symmetrical, sleek and smart. Jack hadn't felt the need to admit that he wasn't especially skilled with a bow tie, but before he could protest, Ianto had stepped in and begun adjusting it with his talented hands.

"No sir, I will not" he insisted, frowning at the offending article. "We are within working hours, therefore it's my responsibility to ensure you look presentable before you leave the house."

Jack grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets.

"You let me out in that white jacket you loathe" he teased.

"Yes sir, and I cope with that, because although it's... _foul_... it is at least _smart_, in its way. A lopsided tie is unforgivable."

Jack laughed, taking the time to admire Ianto in his outfit; one he'd never had the pleasure of seeing. The accessories to his work uniform were slowly becoming more ostentatious, and the soft jumpers he wore when in casual mode were no less than gorgeous, but this was something else. Beautifully cut and clearly costing a great deal even for a man as well-paid as Ianto, the jet-black dress suit was sharp and clung exactly where it was meant to. He almost felt shabby in comparison, but next to a man as wildly attractive as Ianto, Jack found he didn't mind.

"Perfect" Ianto finally announced, taking a step back to sweep his gaze over his employer. Jack glowed beneath the approval in his eyes, not caring whether it was professional or personal.

"Good enough to be seen with you, Jones?"

"Just about, sir." Ianto teased. He wasn't going to vocalise the fact that Jack looked devastatingly handsome. They both knew it, and his vanity wasn't due for a feeding just yet.

"_You_ look good enough to eat, Jones" Jack surmised, stepping around him to look from all angles. "Where have you been hiding this magnificent piece of tailoring?"

"I've... never had occasion to wear it, sir" Ianto admitted, feeling Jack's gaze as if it were a physical touch. "In hindsight, I wonder what drove me to bring it to New York."

"Mr Jones, were you _waiting_ for me to ask you on a date?" Jack teased, lightly resting his chin on Ianto's shoulder from behind, his fingers flexing within his pockets as they yearned to touch the young valet.

"Absolutely, sir. You've foiled me" Ianto replied, and Jack didn't need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes.

Jack chuckled, noting the lack of denial that tonight was a date.

"I have something that'll set it off perfectly" he murmured, spinning towards his wardrobe and digging in, seemingly on a mission. Ianto turned to watch him, already planning his reaction to whatever it was. Ianto never hid his opinions of the majority of Jack's accessories... would Jack really make him wear something he found repulsive? Would Ianto be able to say _no_?

Suitably expectant expression in place when Jack turned back to him, Ianto was amazed to discover that he didn't need to falsify his response. In Jack's hands lay a simple, dark purple scarf that Ianto was sure he'd never seen, despite being the one who packed and unpacked Jack's luggage.

"This will suit you better then me, Jones" Jack smiled, wrapping it around his valet's neck and taking the opportunity to run his hands down his chest as he flattened the fabric against Ianto's lapels.

"It is... surprisingly beautiful, sir" Ianto said, smiling with genuine gratitude. "Very tasteful. Thank you."

"You're welcome" Jack beamed. "Sometimes, Jones, I make good choices." He tilted his head downwards slightly and looked at Ianto through his eyelashes, his grin morphing into something more subtle; more intimate.

"Yes, sir... sometimes" Ianto replied, his voice low and rich.

Jack looked as if he was about to say something else, but thought better of it. Instead his smile grew once more, and he broke their eye contact to glance at his watch.

"Right, come along Jones, our taxi will be waiting."

"May I enquire as to where you're actually taking me, sir?" Ianto asked, taking one last sweeping look around the room to ensure neither of them had forgotten anything.

"A club, Jones; The Rift. Lively, but not too loud. It's about time I showed you off to this city, don't you think?"

It suddenly occurred to Ianto that he _still_ hadn't left the flat in any kind of social capacity, except to Alex Arwen's party, at which event he had more important things to think about than the crowd around him. He'd been so focussed on crashing the place to find Jack and keep him from Toshiko and Owen, he hadn't felt the usual agoraphobia he'd suffered with from since arriving in New York – and he didn't feel it _now_, because he was with Jack. Jack was nothing if not a social butterfly, and Ianto felt completely secure as a result.

"If you say so, sir" he replied, following Jack out of the door with a strange new sense of exhilaration tickling low in his stomach.

* * *

"White coffee, Jones?" Jack asked, his voice raised and close to Ianto's ear as the younger man gazed around at the dazzling inhabitants of The Rift, as glitteringly uninhibited as the décor of the club.

"What _is_ white coffee, sir?" he asked, distracted by the mirrored walls which made the place seem to stretch endlessly.

"In here, it's gin and bitter lemon. Black coffee is scotch and soda, I think."

"White coffee sounds like an appropriate place to begin, sir."

"Pot of white coffee for two" Jack winked at the barman, who nodded conspiratorially back and disappeared into the recesses of the bar – presumably to look for a suitable coffee pot, just in case the police decided to stroll in. Jack imagined that Ianto would pull a face at being forced to sip his liquor from a china cup, but prohibition laws were strict, and popular clubs such as The Rift needed the extra insurance of their customers playing along.

"Do you want to find us a table, Jones? This place will start to get busy soon" Jack suggested, whilst looking for any sign of the missing barman.

Ianto readily agreed, though he realised as he searched for an empty table that he should have offered to procure the drinks himself and bring them to the table. However, he couldn't dredge up the effort to berate himself for being unprofessional. This wasn't an employer/employee outing, and – he checked his watch – it was _just_ after six. His time was technically his own.

Making the decision to at least get the next round of 'coffee', Ianto found a place near to the edge of the stage, upon which an extremely talented swing band was playing, and settled down. Sliding his borrowed scarf from around his neck and laying it reverently on the table, he relaxed into his seat, only startled from his dreamy mood when two... three... no, four hands settled lightly on his arms...

Jack sighed heavily, hoping it would spur on the barman a little bit. First, he'd come out to apologise that they had no clean coffee pots. Then, that they had to wait for the new smuggled gin delivery. A full ten minutes after first resting his elbows on the bar, he was growing distinctly bored and irritated as others were served around him.

"Hey buddy, what's up with you?"

Jack glared at the grinning man to his left – who of course, had a drink in his hand.

"Oh nothing much, I was just hoping to get served this century" Jack grumbled, turning away again and glancing up at the ceiling.

The other man leapt out of his seat and splayed his hands in front of Jack's face excitedly, forcing Jack to back into the corner with wide eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" he spluttered.

"Do that again!" the stranger insisted.

"Do _what_ again?"

"Turn away and look up!"

"_Why_?"

"Just do it!"

Jack sighed and, leaning as far away from the odd man as possible, did as he was asked. Glancing at him once more, he was met with an expression of awe which made even Jack wish he could sink into the wall.

"What is _wrong _with you?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"You're perfect" he whispered, before grabbing Jack's hand to shake. "Eugene Jones. I'm a stage director, producer, writer, you name it" he announced with a manic grin. "My latest production is called _Random Shoes_, and one of my leading men is turning out to be a real prima donna. Have you ever acted before?"

Jack extracted his hand from Eugene's and subtly wiped it down his own trouser leg. _Never trust a man with excessively clammy hands._

"Not since university" he said. "I, uhh... I think I'm a bit old for all that, now."

"No no, you're perfect!" Eugene repeated, examining Jack's face as one would a particularly intriguing lab result. "Seriously, you're exactly what I need to replace that sleaze ball! You're the spitting image, only... better! I don't care if you can act, I just need your face on my stage!"

"I really don't th-"

"Two weeks, a two-week tour with Sundays off, that's all it'll be."

"Look kid, I'm not-"

"What's your name?"

Jack sighed. "Harkness."

"Okay Mr Harkness, how about this: I give that goddamned James Harper another chance and if he screws up once more, you let me call you."

Jack felt literally backed into a corner, acting on stage being literally the furthest idea from his mind. He imagined people were surprised by that, since he gave the impression of loving the sound of his own voice and the look of his own mug, but it wasn't something he felt a burning desire to do. Not that he really _made_ plans, as a general rule.

"Sure, fine" he eventually conceded, striking on the very simple and ingenious idea of scribbling a false number. Eugene eagerly produced a pen and a pad, and Jack made up the last three digits as he wrote it down alongside his name. Perhaps the play wouldn't even happen, or maybe it wouldn't occur until Jack and Ianto had returned to Wales. Either way, he had no intention of being in this stranger's production.

"Jack" Eugene said, eyeing the full name. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too" Jack mumbled, relieved from the inside out when a small tray laden with a pot and two cups was placed under his nose.

"Sorry for the delay, sir" the barman breezily said. Jack noticeably _did not_ give him a tip, instead paying the exact amount required and taking the tray, scanning the room for the table Ianto had secured.

Frowning, his eyes settled on what looked like Ianto, but the table was certainly not free. Though only big enough for two, there were four women crowded around him, all very beautiful from what he could see, and extremely attentive. Jack should have known – bring an obscenely handsome, charming, young British gentleman to almost any club in any large US city was akin to throwing a single scrap of bread into a busy duck pond.

Eugene followed his eye-line and watched the five interact on the other side of the room, leaning in to Jack with a smirk.

"Is one of them yours?" he asked.

"Yes" Jack automatically replied, before thinking. "I mean... kind of, yeah."

"Then you should go stake your claim before one of those girls snaps him up."

Jack sharply turned his head with widened eyes before Eugene laughed, instantly putting him at ease.

"Relax, I work in the theatre, remember? I can just tell" he explained, and Jack had to chuckle.

"Goodbye, Eugene" he said, rather than 'see you later' which he had no intention of doing. Instead, he worked his way through the growing throngs of people, smiling back to any who smiled at him first, but not being distracted from his ultimate goal of sitting down with his valet.

"Evening, ladies" he said when finally he reached the table, Ianto quickly staring up, looking relieved and slightly flushed.

"This is my employer, Mr Jack Harkness" Ianto introduced him, and all four of the women nodded in greeting with polite smiles, before returning their attentions to the younger of the pair. Jack managed to push himself into the little circle, sitting opposite Ianto and pouring him a drink, which Ianto took with a grateful countenance.

"So ladies, have you been wearing out my valet?" Jack asked.

"Oh, he doesn't mind" one of them beamed. "Do you, Yan?"

"_Yan?" _Jack snorted, and Ianto nudged his ankle beneath the table.

"It's not often we get new boys in here, especially not so darned handsome" another piped up, gazing at Ianto as if she wanted to take a long lick. Jack couldn't really fault her for that.

* * *

By the time the coffee pot was empty, Jack had barely had the chance to say more than ten words to his valet, knowing that even if he did lose his temper and tell the ladies surrounding Ianto to leave them alone, they wouldn't listen – and Ianto was far too polite to do so. Instead, he didn't disguise his glower as they each individually handed him small cards which Jack could only assume were printed with their telephone numbers and/or addresses, before finally they floated away, one by one.

As the last one left, throwing Ianto a theatrical wink as she did, Ianto closed his eyes and let out a very long breath. Jack's every fibre was telling him to drag his seat alongside Ianto, to be close to him, but his common sense reminded him that he'd just spent an hour being crowded... he would need a minute to breathe.

"Somebody's popular" Jack commented, plastering on a tight smile.

"Apparently so, sir" Ianto replied, still looking distinctly pink-cheeked and tugging at his collar.

"Did you like it, Jones?"

"The attention, sir?"

"Yes."

"It was... different. I'm not used to it. Flirting en masse takes practice, I imagine. Perhaps you could give me lessons, sir?" Ianto smirked.

"I resent that snide remark, Jones" Jack pouted.

"Not snide, sir. Accurate."

"Well, maybe. But I won't be giving you lessons. Can't have you getting too good at it."

Ianto smiled, visibly relaxing now that it was just the two of them.

"Concerned for your reputation, sir?" he asked. "You're not used to having to share the ladies' affections, after all."

Jack frowned, not quite grasping his meaning, before it occurred to him – Ianto thought he was envious of _him_ because he was holding the women's attention. He chuckled, unable to stop himself.

"Jones, I wasn't scowling burning holes into the backs of their heads because I wanted them to focus on _me_" he explained. Ianto tilted his head, and after a moment understanding dawned in his eyes.

"Ahh..."

"Yeah."

"You were jealous of _them_, sir."

"That's right."

"I see."

Ianto stared into Jack's eyes and felt his smile grow of its own accord, with the knowledge that for the past hour, Jack had been yearning for his own attention rather than that of four beautiful women. Beautiful they were, and their looks matched their tenacity. They had approached him as a pack and descended with a barrage of compliments, as he tried to answer their questions as quickly and politely as possible. He had assumed that when Jack appeared, they would shift focus... but apparently not. Ianto was a man content to live in another person's shadow – it was the basis of his chosen career, after all – and Jack's shadow seemed to stretch on endlessly. He'd felt exposed, surrounded by captivated ladies, though what there was of his male ego did preen itself somewhat.

However he found it impossible to unwind around them, in sharp contrast to how he felt now, with just Jack and his expression of deep, dark, semi-illicit fondness. Of all of the exciting, interesting, sparkling people in this room, Jack only wanted to talk to the man he spent all day, every day with. Ianto tapped his ankle with the toe of his shoe again, gentler this time.

"Sir, although this club _is_ exceedingly charming, I wonder if an early night may be in order."

Jack's eyes blazed as he pretended to consider the proposal.

"Are you sure, Jones? I did bring you out to socialise... meet some interesting people. We _are_ together constantly" he replied, a little insecurity creeping into his tone.

"Quite sure, sir" Ianto replied with complete confidence. "To be perfectly honest, I simply wish to be where you are" he said, mirroring the words Jack used on the night they left his father's favourite pub together. The '_only_' before the 'you' hung heavy in the air between them.

Jack made no further comment, not trusting his voice as he remembered speaking those words himself on an evening that was etched warmly into his memory. Instead, he simply smiled and led the way, this time not just ignoring those around him, but barely even seeing them.

The knowledge that Ianto was following him, as he always did, was all that mattered.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Is it Sunday again already? Apparently so, and our heroes are home from their night out. What do you suppose happens next? This potentially strays into M-rated territory but it's certainly not as explicit as I'm used to writing, and I somehow doubt any of my readers are going to be offended by it. I think I've handled this scene reasonably delicately, befitting the theme of the story. After this chapter I think we'll be returning to the Wodehousian adventures with some familiar Whovian faces, so enjoy the peace while you can! I hope you all enjoy.

* * *

For all the world Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones looked, as they travelled back to the hotel, like good friends surrounded by their own bubble of amicable silence. From afar, a stranger would have observed that their relationship was close, with an intimate knowledge of each other most plausibly developed over a long period of time. A mutual fondness was clear, but not unnecessarily overt.

Not many may have suspected that the moment the flat door was closed, Ianto began raining kisses down Jack's throat, his pulse speeding up almost immediately beneath impassioned lips. Jack let out a steadying breath, grateful for the support of solid wood behind him. Every time Ianto took the initiative and made the first step, it completely robbed Jack of coherent thought. He had begun those first two kisses which had spawned this new stage of their relationship, and tonight had attached his lips to Jack's neck with no prompting and no warning. As in all things, he managed it with a certain air of subtlety, even as he continued to knock their worlds out of kilter.

With great strength of will, Ianto pulled away from his breathless employer and wordlessly took his hand, leading him to his own bedroom. It didn't truly occur to him that Jack's room was bigger and far more lavish, with a vast bed which would have lent extra ease to their more informal adventures but to Ianto, Jack's bedroom was The Workplace. The only room his role as a valet didn't touch was his own, and it seemed a natural venue to take his lover.

Jack didn't object, following with darkened eyes and parted lips. Ianto was forced to break their contact completely on entering the room, leaning over to the bedside table to switch on his dim lamp while Jack closed the door behind them. Straightening up, Ianto felt two hands firmly take a hold of his hips from behind, and then Jack's body was touching his own from head to toe, sending an electrical charge through Ianto's every nerve.

Jack nuzzled his nose against Ianto's ear as he whispered "good. I want to be able to see you, this time."

Ianto leaned back against him for a moment, before turning in Jack's arms and piercing him with his bright blue eyes.

"Jack" he murmured in a guttural voice, rolling the name around on his tongue.

"Yes?" Jack replied, throat instantly dry.

"Your tie is lopsided" Ianto whispered, and tugged the bow apart before Jack kissed him hard with laughter on his lips.

* * *

Jack had been distinctly charitable to himself in assuming that he would lead their lovemaking. He should have known that the very sight of Ianto's bare flesh as it came into view would render him helpless as a newborn kitten, and that his touch would leave him feeling blissfully heavy and alight with a need for more. His young valet hovered above him once they were finally naked, gaze dark and amused as he waited patiently for Jack to reclaim control of his own body.

"You seem a little perturbed, sir" Ianto murmured, held up on one elbow whilst his spare hand trailed low between Jack's thighs, sending shivering spikes of pleasure along the other man's spine. Ianto's expression was one of utter luxuriant peace, while Jack's mind raced and his muscles twitched.

"Unflappable, Jones" he muttered, running a hand through Ianto's hair and internally relishing the sight of the young man increasingly dishevelled.

"We both know that's not quite true" Ianto whispered, and Jack took his prompt, wrapping his fingers tightly around his valet's swollen cock. Ianto's breath caught in his throat and his hand faltered in its mission, resorting to squeezing the flesh of Jack's thigh as if it were an anchor.

"Perhaps not" Jack chuckled, taking advantage of Ianto's parted lips with a deep, sensual kiss.

As Jack began to follow his body's desires, Ianto watched and responded, throwing himself into each and every moment. Jack kept a close eye on his reactions, partially to look for any signs of distaste or discomfort, but Ianto was unwaveringly eager and even more responsive than the previous night, giving as much as he received. Jack surmised that the gin had loosened what reserve still remained, and as a result he was _not_ silent about what he enjoyed. The joy it brought Jack was incomparable, and he was forced to cling with rapidly decreasing strength to his own sanity each time Ianto's explorations took him somewhere new, where he would remain until Jack was mindless with sensation.

Later, and breathless with a desire that refused to wane, Jack finally made his request – in a manner which was uncharacteristically shy – for _more_. Ianto knew better than to ask him if he was sure, but for the first time he found himself nervous with responsibility, even as Jack lapped the sweat from his collarbone.

"Jack, I-"

"It's okay, Jones... you learn best by doing. Trust me" Jack smiled, and Ianto's fears melted within the pool of warmth that expression inspired.

The devouring passion which had encompassed their every movement since arriving home began to give way to a new and intense delicacy, as Jack used soft, trusting whispers to guide Ianto in preparing his body. His young valet was clearly taking the task extremely seriously, and Jack had to fight against the urge to laugh in reaction to the concentration on his face... particularly in contrast with his tousled hair, hot pink cheeks and stone-hard cock.

Ianto broke from his focussed trance and smiled helplessly when Jack's hips began to rock along with the movements of his fingers.

"That's it... that's perfect" Jack sighed, his approval making Ianto glow from the inside out. He dipped his head and licked a long stripe up Jack's aching erection, teasing the tip in a way he had quickly learnt made him hiss. Jack slid his hand into Ianto's hair, caressing his scalp for a moment before pushing him away.

"Stop that" he moaned, making Ianto chuckle.

"Losing your stamina, sir?" his lover teased, smirking at the sight of Jack's slack lips and wide, slate-blue eyes.

Jack growled, grabbing Ianto's wrist and wriggling out of his grip, ignoring the way his body mourned the loss. Kneeling up so that he was face-to-face with his valet, Jack dipped his fingers into the discarded tub of lubricant and squeezed Ianto's cock again with slicked fingers, making him inhale sharply and grab Jack's shoulders.

"You play dirty, sir..."

"You hadn't realised that until _now_?" Jack whispered against his lips, slowing his movements and feeling the burn of lust increase once again with the sensation of Ianto's erection pulsing and sliding hotly against his palm.

"Stop, Jack... uhh... stop!" Ianto gasped, pulling back. His eyes glittered with desire as he pushed Jack back down into the mattress. A final, breathy kiss was shared before Jack turned over onto his front, settling into a comfortable position with his hips slightly raised.

Moving to where he needed to be until his thighs touched Jack's, Ianto ran his fingers over his employer's back, watching the skin goosebump beneath his touch. His hands came lower, over Jack's muscular buttocks where they then stayed as he took in several deep breaths. Jack twisted his head around to look up at him, his smile so soft and sure and full of trust, his gaze so beautifully fond... it was all Ianto needed to surge into the most powerful heat and pressure he had ever experienced.

Taking a moment to catch his startled breath, Ianto began slow and a little awkward, allowing Jack room to shift beneath him until he was completely comfortable. Jack had forgotten how it felt, that delicious invasion... but once the initial burn (which he couldn't help but relish, being a mark of his first time with Ianto) faded, he arched his back to encourage his movements, answered by a long, deep thrust and a tightening of the young man's grip on his hips.

Jack moaned through his pleasure, making no attempt to conceal it. That burn swiftly gave way to a distantly familiar fire glowing low in his belly and spreading outwards, and he heard Ianto breathing slowly through his nose above him, smiling as he remembered how he struggled with the onslaught of bliss during his own first time.

"I won't break, Ianto" he murmured softly, and as his valet gazed down at Jack's glistening spine and the fingers which were flexing hard against the sheets, he released a deep sigh that took with it both his lingering nerves and his control. Jack felt like heated, slippery velvet inside and he allowed his movements to be dictated by the sounds he was making, Ianto's mind detaching from his body as he spiralled.

Jack could feel that his young lover was now running on animal instinct and laughter bubbled up from his chest, having longed to see Ianto completely stripped of his strict sense of control since the day they met. He couldn't have hoped that it would be in this way, hot and slick and moaning as his beautiful hips took on a life of their own... Jack's own body responded of its own accord, rising to meet each deep stroke and shuddering with every hard press against his prostate. Unwitting or not, Ianto's every movement pushed him to new and uncharted heights.

Swiftly losing his own ability to think, he too was reduced to panting, grunting and groaning sounds which echoed Ianto's until the air was thick with them and heavy with the smell of sex. The sheets were sticking to every part of Jack that touched them and he ground his pulsing cock into the linen, reaching blindly for the climax he knew was approaching like a freight train.

Ianto slid his hands up to Jack's shoulder blades and down again, struggling to hold back as he lost his rhythm and approached the precipice of orgasm. Below him, Jack writhed and arched and growled and pushed back for more so lewdly, in a manner Ianto would never have dreamed of as being completely, breathtakingly arousing... yet what slayed him entirely was the way in which Jack once again turned as far as he could to see him, a blissed-out expression softening his blindingly handsome face as he moaned "_Ianto"_, and his body clenched around him like a silken vice.

Ianto head lolled back on his neck and he let loose a long, husky moan, helpless to stop the relief raging through his every nerve as he hit his peak and gripped Jack's hips like they were all that would keep him on earth. Jack jerked and shuddered in reply, his hoarse cry muffled as he sank his teeth into Ianto's pillow, hips still rocking into the mattress even once Ianto had shakily hauled himself off him and wedged into what space remained on the narrow bed.

"Jack?" he whispered, kissing his lover's shoulder.

"Uh huh..." Jack mumbled, somehow dredging up the energy to turn his face towards the concerned eyes of his valet.

"Are you..." Ianto's voice trailed off as his eyes scanned Jack's body, looking for signs that he was in any way uncomfortable or in pain.

"I'm fine. More than fine" Jack assured him, his face splitting into a wide grin. "You were incredible, like I knew you would be."

Ianto captured his lips in a tender kiss, slightly regretful that he couldn't do so while they were making love... or fully see his beautiful expression of elation when he came. Perhaps another time, in a different position... his mind began to form images and he chuckled to himself.

"You did seem to be enjoying it" he murmured, helping Jack onto his side so that they could wrap their arms around each other. Ianto was aware of the dampness of the linen, and it probably should have repulsed him... yet he simply didn't care.

"You know, Jones? I rather think I did" Jack agreed, almost purring with the sensation of Ianto's fingers playing idly with his damp hair.

"Perhaps you could show me, one evening" Ianto suggested softly, finding that the thought didn't worry him. He saw and felt the pleasure Jack gained from it... even from somebody inexperienced like himself. Jack's eyes lit up.

"Really? I mean... there's no obligation..."

"Of course. I want to know it all" Ianto stated, and he did. He had a thirst for knowledge and experience, and this was all brand new. He wanted more. Most of all, he wanted to be _good_ at it, both for himself and for Jack. His employer's eyes took on a now-familiar dark shine, and he smirked.

"Then you shall" he murmured, stealing another kiss.

Leaning over the younger man to turn off the lamp, Jack glanced at the alarm clock and smiled, settling back down into the pitch black warmth of Ianto's embrace.

Just after midnight. Perfect.

"Hey, Ianto?" he whispered as his valet's breathing grew deeper.

"Sir?" was the reply, a disembodied voice drifting on the edge of consciousness.

"Happy birthday."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Evening, lovelies! Time for more, and we're making our way back to Wodehousian adventures at last. Much of this is just Ianto's birthday, and possibly the last slice of peace for a while. Well, we know what Jack is like for attracting trouble.

I hope you all heard about the return of Ianto in the new radio plays set pre-CoE, and if you follow Barrowman on Twitter, you may have seen the recent photo of him and Gareth grinning together and looking gorgeous at the recording in LA. If not, I suggest you find it. I'm not ashamed of the inhuman noise that escaped me when I laid eyes upon it...

* * *

"Ianto Jones, if you've brought me coffee on your own birthday, you're fired."

A soft chuckle made it worth Jack opening his eyes, just as Ianto callously threw open the curtains and allowed the mid-morning light to intrude.

"Right, you're definitely fired" he croaked, throwing a forearm over his face.

"Forgive my insolence sir, but I find that doubtful" a glorious Welsh accent replied in a deep, amused tone, and Jack took the risk of peeking from under his arm. His valet stood dutifully at the foot of the bed, dressed as casually as Ianto would ever dress, a grey lambswool jumper fitting his firm torso perfectly.

"My eyes are up here, sir" the younger man teased, rolling them as he did.

"Oh I could never forget your eyes, Jones" Jack murmured, affectionately prodding Ianto's knee with his toe. "Why on earth did you make me coffee? It's not only your day off, but it's your birthday as well" he admonished. "If anything, _I_ should be making _you_ a coffee."

Ianto's eyes widened with horror, which was only marginally exaggerated.

"I think it's best if I maintain control of the coffee machine, sir" he said. "Besides which, I didn't make that particular cup as your valet."

Jack glanced at the receptacle on the bedside table, then up at Ianto as his own smile grew. Levering himself onto his elbows, he gave his finest leer and purred "so what did you make it as?"

Ianto smirked too, though his expression lacked the same cockiness.

"Your lover" he said with absolute confidence, and Jack's grin grew so wide, he thought his face might split.

"In which case, I'll allow it" he said, sliding to the end of the bed and kneeling up exactly as he had the previous morning, requesting a kiss. Only this time, Ianto's hands came to cup his face and stroke the light stubble on Jack's cheeks as he accepted the tongue that sought to dance with his own. Jack slid his arms around Ianto's waist with a soft moan, and Ianto knew without a doubt that he'd never felt such ease with another person.

His single fear in making this extra step with Jack was the effect it might have on their tight yet simple bond; whether it might bring awkwardness and insecurity into the relationship. However, he didn't feel any different. That uncanny ability Jack had of making him feel completely secure and unburdened extended into their intimacies, giving Ianto's own self-confidence a gentle kick-start. Ianto had always been able to do anything he puts his mind to, but the fact that Jack effortlessly kept him feeling relaxed with merely an affectionate smile, and made him sure that he could do nothing truly wrong, was a boost that allowed him a whole new natural high.

Jack pulled back for breath, sucking Ianto's lower lip as he went and offering him a languid smile.

"Happy birthday to me _indeed,_ sir" Ianto murmured, sliding his hands down Jack's neck and over his broad shoulders.

"And what do you plan to do during your day of freedom, Jones?" Jack asked, fiddling with the tie knot just visible above the neckline of Ianto's jumper while the other hand crept up and down his spine.

Ianto's mind immediately filled with less-than-wholesome possibilities, and Jack flashed him wide guileless eyes whilst still wrapped around Ianto like a limpet, completely naked and stinking of last night's exertions. After a brief internal battle, he decided that no, his day should be spent outside the confines of the flat. Having finally discovered some semblance of settled contentment being in New York, he intended to enjoy the place while he could.

"Central Park Zoo, sir" he declared. Jack raised his eyebrows, though Ianto was relieved to note that he didn't look affronted by the lack of suggestion to have sex all day.

"The zoo, Jones? Huh... I hadn't thought of that" he mused. "Bring me back one of those little snow globe things" he grinned. Ianto smirked knowingly back.

"You are exceedingly transparent, sir."

Jack's grip loosened a little. _Now_ he looked affronted.

"What d'you mean?"

Ianto sighed through his nose with the air of one long-suffering but endlessly patient. It wasn't like Jack to even _pretend_ to do anything other than invite himself. It had only recently become glaringly obvious to Ianto that Jack's particular brand of egotism had begun to wane slightly, replaced by a vague insecurity which had concerned Ianto before he realised that it was probably good for the other man. He needed it to keep him grounded. And Ianto knew that it was for _him_, which he accepted with a certain self-deprecating pleasure.

"I'll run your bath and lay out your clothes, sir. I don't trust you not to choose something which might frighten the defenceless animals."

Jack's grin returned with a sheepish tint to it, and he reluctantly pulled away from Ianto's distinctly cleaner-smelling body.

"Would you consider joining me, Jones?" he purred, reclining once more and looking as if he had no plans to get up without some other incentive.

"I have already bathed, sir" Ianto replied, his eyes running appreciatively over Jack's form.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I would like to leave with plenty of time to explore the zoo, sir."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Then yes."

"Yes?"

"I will consider joining you." Ianto fell silent for a beat. "There, I've considered it. The answer is no, sir."

Jack shook a fist at him from his prone position, accompanied by a low growl, to which Ianto merely raised an eyebrow.

"Are you coming to the zoo with me or not, sir?" he asked dryly.

"Yes, Jones, yes" Jack huffed, wriggling a little to enjoy the the feeling of having been thoroughly _loved_ the evening before which he knew would pass soon. Until the next time. Once again his toothy smile lit up the room and Ianto had to chuckle in response.

"Jack, Myfanwy awaits you" he said, indicating towards the main bathroom, and Jack marvelled again at how every facet of Ianto's voice sounded different when he said his name. He sprung up from the mattress, finally deciding he was ready for the world, and was immediately grabbed by his valet for an unexpectedly sensuous kiss, into which Ianto attempted to pour all of his bubbling affection and ever-growing attraction... just to reassure the man of what he wanted. He felt rather than heard Jack's gasp against his lips, and only barely stifled a groan in response.

Without a promise-filled parting glance, he swept away and into the bathroom to run the water, leaving Jack gaping stupidly and naked in full view of the window (as usual), before his melted mind reformed and he skipped gleefully through the flat.

* * *

"Awful lot of kids here, Jones."

"Yes sir, it's a zoo."

Jack stared around at the throngs of visitors to the place, only now understanding why it would have been better to simply get up immediately rather than mess about, flirt and then have a long splashing sing-song in the bath. After that came a playful argument about the outfit Ianto had picked out for him which ended in discovering that while Ianto had a natural immunity to ticklishness in his ribs and neck, fondling his feet led to helpless giggling and kicking, resulting in a very flushed, very embarrassed valet whose eyes swore revenge.

Forty-five minutes later and wandering around the animals (after Jack insisted on paying for the entrance), Ianto remained unimpressed by the attack and Jack had to try harder than usual to make him smile. What broke the coolness was Jack's attempt to converse with a small Tamarin monkey, standing eye-to eye with it as it clung to the bars of its cage and responded to Jack's squeaks.

Ianto failed to stop himself from laughing at the spectacle, though he was uncomfortably aware of the surrounding crowds mostly tutting and shaking their heads at the behaviour of a grown man. Though their disapproval made him feel slightly tense as he watched, he refused to step away from Jack's side. He wasn't afraid to admit that he had vast respect for a man who didn't care what strangers thought of him. In his own line of work, image was everything, but for Jack it didn't matter and he basked in a freedom most people didn't allow themselves.

Suddenly Jack backed away from the cage with a gasp of horror, scowling at the animal, which lost interest as soon as he moved and scuttled off to its mate.

"You should have heard what that furry little jerk just said about my waistcoat, Jones!" Jack announced, pursing his lips. "Like he has any right to judge, running about in the same dull brown outfit, day after day..."

Ianto burst into a fresh round of helpless laughter while Jack glowed at the reaction, enjoying the glint of Ianto's teeth and the soft lines around his brightened eyes.

"Am I forgiven now?" Jack murmured, referring to the tickle attack which had humiliated Ianto so.

"Forgiveness was never necessary, sir" Ianto assured him, grasping at his currently elusive control. "Not when there can be vengeance instead."

Jack scowled, ignoring the way that the dark, mischievous look in Ianto's eye caused a surging heat low in his abdomen. Ianto widened his eyes with animated faux-innocence and strode past him, confident that Jack would remain hot on his heels. The fact that he was able to consistently hold the absolute attention of a man like Jack did wonders for his own ego.

"Did you know that the sea lion pool at this zoo is completely unique, sir?" he said conversationally as Jack caught up and stood close to him, glancing towards said pool where children cheered at the flicking grey tails.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir. It was designed by Charles Schmieder, and is a particularly advanced piece of architecture, because Schmieder actually studied the habitats of sea lions in the wild and incorporated that into the design. In fact, the pool is the centrepiece of the zoo. It was only earlier this year that the entire place was properly housed using a neo-Georgian brick and limestone quadrangle, with the sea lions in the cent-"

"Ice cream!"

Ianto stopped dead, blinking rapidly as Jack jogged on ahead of him to flag down the mobile treat-seller and mull excitedly over the flavours.

"Of course, ice cream is _far_ more interesting" Ianto sighed with a tolerant smile. So much for keeping Jack's attention...

"Jones! They have coffee ice cream! How many scoops do you want?" Jack called, his grin almost blinding in the afternoon sun.

"I try to avoid ice cream, thank you sir" Ianto replied, watching the smile fall into a pout.

"_Why_?" he asked, as if Ianto was a freak of nature. The younger man rolled his eyes.

"Because it gives me a headache, sir" he explained, not being used to having to discuss his weaknesses, but he supposed he didn't have to hide that sort of thing from Jack.

Jack finally gave in with a shrug, and Ianto watched indulgently as he paid for one large ice cream and one paper bag filled with cola cubes, which he handed to his valet.

"It's your birthday, consume as much sugar as you possibly can, Jones" Jack said, taking an obscenely long lick of his tricolour dessert. Ianto placed a sweet on his tongue and relished the flavour, wondering when the last time he'd simply bought himself a quarter of something deliciously tooth-rotting was. Good tailoring was really the only thing he treated himself to. Perhaps it was time to be a little more selfish.

"Thank you, sir" he said, the words a little slurred by the unusual shape pressed against his palate.

The day continued in the same leisurely fashion, Ianto being amazed at how he'd been able to slip into such an informal mood simply for his birthday, which had not seemed overly important since the age of eighteen and he normally worked through anyway. Jack had only made one request for Ianto to stop calling him _sir_ on his day off, but Ianto couldn't keep any such promise. Even when he was utterly relaxed, it was difficult not to allow the honorific to slip from his tongue. It was as natural to him as it was for Jack to call him _Jones_... and made it all the more affecting when they called each other _Jack_ and _Ianto_.

* * *

"Did you enjoy your day, Mr Jones?" Jack purred as he removed Ianto's coat back in their own hallway, in a strangely erotic role-reversal.

"I think you know the answer to that, Jack" Ianto replied, his low voice causing tremors in his employer that he couldn't hide. They had stayed late at the zoo, looking at everything there was to see with Ianto throwing out seemingly random pieces of information about the animals or that part of New York, which went way beyond what was printed on the signs. Jack's mind may have wandered a few times, either due to the sight and/or smell of food or the shapes that Ianto's lips made when he spoke, but he thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.

When eventually a security guard was forced to ask them to leave as the zoo was closing, Jack took Ianto straight to an upmarket restaurant, much to Ianto's mortification – he felt that he was improperly dressed for formal meal but as it turned out, the place was cosy and more importantly, almost empty. A tucked-away table was secured, where Jack presented a small birthday gift (a pair of intricate comedy/tragedy mask cuff links) as a companion to the Wilde book Ianto had received early, and plied him with the best food and 'blackcurrant pressé' (red wine) available.

The drink and the atmosphere loosened Ianto's tongue, allowing him to talk more about himself that he ever had, though still only with Jack's prompting. He spoke more of beginning in his profession, after having been rigorously trained by his father (did Jack detect a hint of disapproval regarding Jones Senior's methods?), and finding it difficult to earn the trust of wealthy, elderly men as a teen in a suit he was still in the process of fitting into. Then he had begun to find his place in the world as all young men eventually do, earlier than most but a necessity in his job. Jack noticed that his mother had still never been mentioned, but he wouldn't push for more. Any little sliver of light onto Ianto's private life was a gift, Jack thought. Besides which, he'd never spoken to Ianto about his_ own _family. Not yet.

Then Jack caught up with his wine consumption, and began to flirt. A lot. Ianto managed to maintain a mask of wry detachment in the face of most of it, but when Jack forcibly took his hand and pressed his lips, firm and lingering against his palm, his valet felt himself flush from the middle of his torso to the tips of his ears and quickly scanned the restaurant in case they were being watched. Jack looked disconcertingly pleased with himself after that, and they opted to skip dessert in order to return to the flat.

"You shouldn't kiss me in public, sir" Ianto said, his voice husky and completely lacking in reproval as he rocked his hips in slow, circular motions, watching and feeling Jack react beneath him.

"I'm not going to-ahh!-apologise, Jones" Jack whispered back, arching his body encouragingly for Ianto's every move. Apparently the young man's birthday wish was to repeat the previous evening, but _"do it better"_, as he'd put it. Jack was in no position to argue, nor did he have the inclination to do so. He knew enough about Ianto to have an awareness of his desire to be excellent at everything he did; not on a competitive level, and there was certainly no conceit involved, but he needed to be satisfied in his own ability. In the mean time... practice making perfect had never been so enjoyable.

As such he allowed Ianto to be as thorough as he wished, and tried his best to answer coherently when Ianto questioned him. Then once Ianto was content that he had earned the right to enter his lover's body, his stare was almost black, breathtakingly intense and wavered only when they came together to kiss or when Jack moved against him in a way that forced his eyelids to flutter.

"You'll get us into trouble, Jack" the younger man gasped, dipping his head to suck at Jack's Adam's apple.

"You know me, Ianto... I can't help but... act on my feelings" Jack moaned, grasping at his valet in a way that he hoped encouraged him to not be quite so gentle. Ianto seemed to get the message and applied a little more force, and then more until Jack was beyond incoherence and Ianto's control was a distant memory.

* * *

It was a little after four in the morning when the telephone began to ring. And ring. And ring.

It entered Jack's subconscious during an especially delicious dream and didn't stop even when Jack opened his eyes to complete darkness, crushed against his extremely warm valet in a tiny bed. His first thought was of vague amazement that the ever-alert Ianto hadn't woken first to the sound, but he was grateful for it; he deserved more rest than he allowed himself. When the telephone began its forth round of rings, Jack grudgingly extracted himself from the bed – having only been able to take a brief moment to enjoy waking next to the young man – and shuffled as quickly as possibly into the lounge. Whoever was on the other end of the line had some serious goddamned nerve.

"_Yes_?" he grunted on picking up the receiver, rolling his shoulders until he heard a satisfying click.

"Jack? Jackie Harkness?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Jack, it's Tom Brockless."

A few thousand faces flicked through Jack's mind. Tom Brockless... Tommy... Brock!

"Oh! Yes, sorry old man, I couldn't place your voice for a second there."

Brock was a renowned bohemian New York poet, a must-have at all of the parties (though he only attended the scant few he deemed the least raucous), and always one of the very small number of attendees worth talking to. Jack had met him twice during that first week in the city, and they had exchanged contact information on mutually deciding that most of the other party-goers were vacuous idiots. Brock was most definitely a man out of his time, fiercely intelligent and bursting with creativity. He was also tall and good-looking, but that really wasn't a hugely important element of his back story.

"What can I do for you, Brock?"

The poet made a small, uncomfortable sound down the line, and Jack could envisage him shifting in his slippers.

"Well, Jackie... I was wondering whether I could borrow your man, Jones..."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Right lovelies - a new chapter, in which we discover Tommy's intentions. This is another plotline from the Jeeves books which will act as a gateway to a bigger adventure with a returning character. Watch this space!

And by the way, not that I'm exactly complaining, but I received an unusually low volume of reviews for the last chapter. Should I be concerned? You lot have spoilt me... I've become what I most despise... a _review tart_.

Until next week, you sexy things.

* * *

"Brock, this is ludicrous, absolutely not."

"Jackie, just hear me out..."

Jack sighed heavily, stuffing another slice of cooling toast into his mouth. After dropping his bombshell on Jack via the telephone at an _ungodly_ hour, Tommy had hurriedly stated that he needed to explain his reasoning in person, and that he would be on the next boat from Long Island. He had then abruptly hung up, leaving Jack gaping dumbly at the receiver, before slinking back to Ianto's bed. By morning, he was convinced that it had been a strange dream, perhaps some deep-seated paranoia about having his valet stolen away from him... so when Tommy turned up midway through breakfast looking distraught and carrying a battered suitcase, Jack was more than a little surprised.

"Right, explain it to me again" he said, brushing crumbs from his mouth and flicking a glance to Ianto, who had been eyeing Tommy's _relaxed _attire with disapproval since he arrived. Jack had to smirk.

"Okay" Tommy clapped his hands together. "My aunt is sick."

"Sorry to bear that, Brock" Jack said sincerely.

"Don't be, she's putting it on" Tommy waved his hand dismissively. Ianto arched one eyebrow.

"Oh. Right. Why?"

"It's just what she does to get me to do what she wants" Tommy sighed. "Anyway, I received this letter yesterday." He dug several crumpled sheets out of his jacket pocket. "Essentially, in an extremely roundabout and emotionally blackmailing manner, she wants me to attend this big list of New York's finest clubs and write up _reports_ for her. She thinks hearing about flash city life will make her feel better."

Jack tilted his head and waited for more, before realising that no further explanation was forthcoming.

"Right. So... what's the problem?" Jack asked slowly.

"The problem _is_, Jackie, I _hate_ clubs! I hate crowds! I can't do it!"

"Then don't."

"Jack, if I don't, she'll cut off my allowance. So... you see my issue!"

"Can't you just... make it up?" Jack suggested with a shrug.

"She'll know" Tommy replied darkly. Jack nodded in understanding. Aunts _always_ knew.

"You'll just have to bite the bullet" Jack shrugged. Tommy looked pained, slumping in his seat.

"Jackie, _please_... you told me all about your amazing valet and how he gets you out of scrapes! I _need_ help with this."

Ianto watched the exchange with his hands behind his back and wondered if he had a voice in this conversation which was, worryingly, swinging further in his direction.

"So you want Jones to go to all these clubs and review them, for you to then scribble the reports in your own handwriting and send them to your aunt, thereby securing your funds and keeping her happy?" Jack clarified.

"Exactly!" Tommy exclaimed, flailing in victory.

Jack finally turned to Ianto, who stood at the opposite end of the breakfast table looking divinely aloof.

"What do you think, Jones?" he asked.

Ianto pursed his lips, mulling it over. It wasn't exactly an appealing proposition to him, but as per usual his sense of professionalism was niggling at him to help when a friend of his employer's was in need. He was quite sure that he could exercise a certain degree of artistic license to the writings, and therefore wouldn't have to spend _too_ long in any of the locations.

"Please, Jones" Tommy begged, rising to his feet to stand in front of the young man with his palms pressed together in prayer. "I haven't known Jack long but he says you're an absolute marvel, not to mention remarkably eloquent. It would be easy for a renaissance man like yourself!"

Ianto almost snorted. He wouldn't exactly call himself _that_...

"Besides which, I'm just a poet from Long Island, I don't know anything about city life! I go to about five parties a _year_ just to make sure my readers know I'm alive... the rest of my time is spent in a log cabin, writing all night and sleeping all day."

"That explains a lot" Jack mumbled, still less than impressed about the timing of Tommy's telephone call.

"Hell, some days I don't even get dressed! I go to the shops in my pyjamas and a bathrobe!"

At that, Ianto's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he was forced to grip the edge of the table.

"You... leave the house... in your _sleepwear_, sir?" he choked. Realising the gravity of the situation, Jack leapt to his feet and placed a reassuring hand on Ianto's shoulder, hoping it would calm him a little.

"I'm sorry Jones, you shouldn't have had to hear that" he said sincerely, holding back a grin with all of his might. A young man brought up the way Ianto was with propriety, poise and dignity being the mainstays of his career and his life... it was difficult for him to hear such a thing. Jack understood that, but it didn't make Ianto's reaction any less humorous.

"What's _his_ problem?" Tommy asked, tilting his head towards Ianto.

"I'm fine sir, it... passed" Ianto murmured, straightening his own jacket as if scruffiness might be contagious.

"Jones can be a little delicate when it comes to wardrobal matters" Jack explained, relishing the glare it afforded him.

"If I may return the conversation to Mr Brockless's difficulty with his aunt, sirs..." Ianto prompted as Jack's hand slipped from his shoulder with a final pat, "I am quite content to perform this exercise if it saves Mr Brockless personal distress and future financial troubles."

"Jones, I could kiss you!" Tommy beamed, though he made no moves to do so.

"Very kind of you to say so, sir" Ianto nodded, and it was Jack's turn to glare.

"Fine, we'll do it" he sighed. "It could even be fun, I suppose."

"_We_?" Tommy queried.

"Yes, Jones and I."

"Jack, you have to stay here and keep me company."

Jack blinked hard. "Keep you company? Here? Who said anything about you staying here?"

"Well I can't very well post the rewritten letters with Long Island postage marks, can I?" Tommy replied, exasperated. Jack glanced at the suitcase again, and it all clicked. "I thought you might like to catch up... besides, Jones doesn't want you hanging around him during his time off!"

Jack looked at Ianto, who struggled to find the proper thing to say. He could see a small degree of hurt in Jack's eyes, but all he could do was smile apologetically. There was clearly no getting out of this one. He had also assumed that Jack would be joining his club crawl, and having to go alone made the venture seem even less appealing, but the presence of Tommy's luggage did mean that it was less of a surprise than it could have been.

"Is he always this clingy?" Tommy joked, nudging Ianto's arm. Again Ianto merely smiled, inwardly making reference to the small semi-circular marks that adorned his arms and back beneath pristine layers of fabric. _Yes, Jack could be clingy... grabby... and scratchy..._

"There's nowhere for you to sleep" Jack argued weakly, looking sullen.

"I'll take the couch" Tommy shrugged. "Jack, pal, you're worrying me. I thought we were friends..."

Jack looked into his wide, dark eyes and guiltily realised the impression he was giving.

"Of course we are, Brock... I'm sorry, it'll just be odd, Jones being out of the house. He normally gets saddled with looking after me even after hours" he laughed weakly and swatted at Tommy's arm. "You can help me struggle along."

"Some of us aren't blessed with the luxury of a valet" Tommy snorted, appeased by Jack's explanation. "I'll have to teach you how to fend for yourself."

Jack laughed again, though Ianto could tell it was forced.

"If you'll excuse me sirs..." he interrupted, indicating towards the used breakfast crockery.

"Of course, Jones." Jack stepped out of the way and watched in wonder at the way Ianto was able to gather all of the dirty articles along the length of one forearm, with any leftovers in his hands, leaving the table spotless.

* * *

Five minutes later and Ianto was brewing more coffee, the plates and cup having already been washed and dried with lightening speed. Jack entered the kitchen as quietly as possible, in the full knowledge that even if he were able to creep in silently, Ianto would still know he was there.

"Jones" he said quietly, standing next to his valet and looking slightly sheepish.

"Yes, sir" Ianto replied, smiling that warm smile of his which only Jack saw.

"You don't have to do this, you know. Just say the word and I'll boot Brock out."

"Sir, Mr Brockless is your friend, and forgive me for saying so but you _have_ lost many of the others in recent months."

Jack didn't even wince. He knew it to be true.

"I think that Mr Brockless may be one of the few who is worth keeping as an acquaintance."

"But he's not as important as you" Jack murmured, his eyes examining every inch of Ianto's face. Ianto's gaze flickered down to Jack's lips for a millisecond, then back to sky-blue eyes.

"I know, sir" he replied. "But I can manage at these clubs. Had you not taken me to The Rift and exposed me to a little of New York's night life, I might have been far more apprehensive. As if is... I will persevere."

"Oh, Jones" Jack sighed, "you and Brock are the only two people in the world who could make evenings out at New York's hottest locations sound like a chore."

Ianto chuckled, taking the coffee pot off the heat and pouring Jack a fresh cup.

"It is not something I'm well versed in, sir... you know that."

"I do" Jack nodded, gratefully accepting his cup. "You know, Jones... we won't be able to... share a bed, with Brock here."

Ianto stared at Jack; the thought hadn't occurred to him. "No, sir... I suppose not."

"Meaning no... _togetherness_" Jack pressed. Ianto smirked at the uncharacteristically careful phrasing. He stepped a little closer to his employer, thoroughly invading his personal space but not making any attempt to touch him. Jack stood completely still, knowing the rules. Ianto closed his eyes and breathed in Jack's naturally unique scent, his nose very lightly brushing against the tip of Jack's as he moved his head as if for a kiss, before he stepped back and unnecessarily smoothed down his own tie.

"We shall each have to exercise a little patience, sir" he murmured, voice husky. Jack growled under his breath, narrowing his eyes.

"I have a feeling you're going to be testing that patience, Jones."

"Not deliberately, sir" Ianto replied, sounding _almost_ sincere.

"No... you don't even need to try" Jack sighed with a helpless smile, pre-emptively mourning the lack of Ianto's touch as he walked away.

Ianto gazed appraisingly at Jack's retreating form, that backside tenderly cradled in navy blue trousers, and he knew that the sole upside to this venture would be the heated, longing looks he would share with his employer, the idea of which sent a hot shiver along his spine. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could keep his own desire hidden even from Jack... but Jack was not so skilled. His need would shine from his eyes and Ianto had no doubt that the older man would corner him at every opportunity to tell him exactly how he was feeling in crystal-clear terms. And each time, Ianto would have to live up to expectation and tease Jack for all he was worth.

_Yes_, Ianto thought as he picked up his little silver tray with Tommy's coffee perched delicately in the centre; _this could be quite interesting._

* * *

At Tommy's insistence, Ianto was obliged to begin his post-twilight adventures that very evening. Once supper had been served, he excused himself in order to change into the suit he had worn to The Rift. Emerging in the lounge, Jack told him non-committally that he looked nice (_I'd like to peel you out of that_), and Ianto thanked him (_I know, Jack... soon)_ before politely wishing them a pleasant night.

Within three hours, Jack and Tommy had exhausted all discussion of mutually interesting topics and friends, and were down to an intense poetry reading which Jack was trying and failing to understand. It wasn't that he didn't _like_ poetry... more that Tommy's was so far flung from the mainstream, bordering on existentialist, that listening to it for too long caused crossed eyes and migraines. Jack hadn't realised how little he had in common with his friend away from a celebratory setting where neither of them wished to be, but he had taken to heart Ianto's words about attempting to keep this one man close, and so he would try.

His mind idly found its way back to that first day with Ianto in his employ, and the words "_I am _not _one of those fellows who becomes an absolute slave to his valet"... _he chuckled to himself, settling back into the sofa as Tommy continued his animated lecture. Ianto may have been essentially Jack's servant, but Jack was absolutely Ianto's slave.

* * *

Ianto slumped against the closed door, unknotting his bow tie and extracting the pocket watch from his trousers to discover that it was gone two in the morning. No wonder the flat was unusually still and silent. It was a little eerie, as was the sudden discovery of a huddled body curled upon the sofa, snoring lightly. In his exhausted state, Ianto had forgotten about Tommy's presence and the implications of it.

The night had unfolded in a surprisingly pleasing manner, somehow ending with him accompanying a vibrant young jazz singer on the piano... on stage. Ianto had found himself sucked into the high spirits of the place without even a drop of high spirits passing his lips, meaning that he wouldn't need to embellish his report to the predicted extent.

He couldn't help but think that Jack would have adored the evening, as he crawled out of his clothing and carefully hung each article back where it belonged. Ianto had been surprised to see, in both of the clubs he had attended, more than one same-sex pair making no attempts to hide their romantic attachment, with none of the other patrons seeming to care. As such he felt a little more relaxed to be within an open-minded environment, as if in the back of his mind there was some slight fear that his newly skewed orientation might be visible from the outside, even when he was alone.

Dropping onto the bed with an unusual lack of grace, Ianto felt the crisp crumple of paper beneath his shoulder blade and wriggled across the mattress until he could reach the note. He flattened it between his hands and held it up to the moonlight to read, a slow, satisfied smile spreading over his face before he tucked it into his bedside drawer and closed his eyes with a slight shake of his head.

_Wish I was here._

_J_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Morning, all. You get this chapter nice and early because I'm just that lovely (and because I won't be able to do so before tomorrow, otherwise).

This was very much That Difficult Twenty-Fifth Chapter, but after this will be more plot and drama and fun. Thank you, as ever, for all of the reviews; they feed my ego beautifully, but I'm always hungry for more!

Pip pip.

* * *

If one night without Jones's company had been difficult for Jack, two was going to be downright impossible... he just knew it.

Ianto woke his employer at the usual time, with his usual cup of coffee and the usual professional demeanour, but as soon as he had served breakfast and then washed up the casualties of Jack's appalling table manners, he had to throw himself into the task of writing up his reports from the previous evening; something he wouldn't have the time to do after work hours.

More than once Jack tried to drop the hint that the letters could simply be drafted out on a typewriter, thus eliminating the need for Brock to be there at all, but the young poet said that he wished to know what he was supposedly sending to his aunt in case she should make reference to anything he'd said. Besides which, she enjoyed the personal touch of a hand-written letter.

Listening to their conversation, Ianto raised his head from the neat stack of papers beneath his hand and offered Jack what was _meant_ to be a sympathetic smile... but emerged as more of a smirk.

"Perhaps, sir, you could take Mr Brockless out into the city to inspire his creative mind, and enjoy a little fresh air yourself?" he gently suggested.

"Marvellous idea, Jones!" Tommy enthused while Jack narrowed his eyes at his valet. "Come on Jack, your man could use the quiet. How can he concentrate with his boss flitting around all the time?"

"My sentiment precisely, sir. You can be quite a distraction" Ianto solemnly agreed, rising from his seat and taking great pains in maintaining a grave expression, while Jack forced a cough to swallow the threatening snort of laughter.

"Very well, Jones. I wouldn't want to take your mind off the job" he sighed, placing his hands on his hips in a manner which he knew stretched his sky-blue shirt tightly over his chest muscles. Ianto – to his credit – maintained eye contact, even as he slid by Jack to retrieve his employer's jacket and caught the scents of musk and coffee which clung naturally to the other man.

"I received your note sir, and if it is of any comfort, the inclination was reciprocated" Ianto murmured directly into Jack's ear as he took his time sliding the coat sleeves up to rest on the his broad shoulders, glancing surreptitiously back towards the lounge where Tommy was gulping down one last hot beverage.

Jack closed his eyes and smiled, standing completely still to enjoy the feeling of those tender hands smoothing down imaginary creases in the fabric beneath them, and the light brush of warm breath behind one ear.

"Good to know, Jones" he purred. "I don't suppose you thought of me at all, during your wild night out?"

"Of course, sir. I thought about how I would have been able to visit more than only two clubs, had you accompanied me to distract those who surrounded and made various unseemly offers towards myself" Ianto breezily replied.

Jack spun on his heel, flashing suspicious eyes.

"_Unseemly_? In what sense?"

"Surely a man of the world such as yourself does not require translation for the term, sir."

"You're toying with me, Jones."

"Absolutely, sir."

Jack growled low in his throat and Ianto raised an eyebrow. He knew he'd won.

"I find it doubtful that I could have pulled anybody away from you, Jones. You yourself are magnetic to the core. I know this... only too well" Jack said, voice lowering to a whisper as the sentence ended. "One night, when Brock has gone, I want to hear about all of these _offers_ you've had... so I can try to better them."

The tension radiating between them was palpable, and Ianto's next breath shuddered slightly in its intake. Jack licked his lips and rolled his shoulders slowly. He had snatched victory away, which soothed the throb of jealousy that surged at the thought of Ianto dripping with beautiful women... and potentially, a few men.

"Very kind of you, sir. I would appreciate the additional tutelage" Ianto replied, his voice even once more, though his eyes maintained their flush of darkness.

"Like you need it" Jack huffed. He'd be envious if he wasn't the one reaping the rewards of Ianto's natural talents. "How many more clubs on your list, Jones?"

"Seven, sir. If I can be especially prolific, no more than another three evenings' worth."

His employer grunted again, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

"Ianto Jones, defender of the endangered poet... what am I going to do with you?"

Ianto stepped close to him once more, his smirk returning.

"You'll think of something, sir" he murmured, voice husky, watching Jack's eyes widen before Tommy approached and clapped his friend on the back with unnecessary zeal.

"Come along, Jackie! Get out of Jones's way, he's too busy for you" he announced cheerfully, forcing him through the door with a laugh that Jack did not join in with.

* * *

The ensuing night was much like the previous for Ianto; too busy to think very hard about what he was missing, though feeling increasingly less awkward in the very public atmosphere than he was used to. He couldn't claim that he was truly enjoying it, because there was that omnipresent sense of not quite _belonging_, but the people were friendly and almost everybody he met attempted to involve him in their conversations and activities.

Again, he found his pockets filled with telephone numbers (one or two punctuated with lipstick kisses), and wondered what life was like for a man who collected women in that way, only to date and drop them as if they were toys. Or... half the time become engaged to them, in Jack's case.

In hindsight, it was becoming difficult to imagine Jack as _that person_ any longer. Not that he had ever truly seen Jack as much other than the surprisingly vulnerable, lonesome person he showed only to Ianto, but he knew the stories – the lengths Jack had gone to over the years to lessen that loneliness.

Ianto had long suspected that Jack hadn't had a stabilising influence in his life (besides his aunts, if they could be called such a thing) from a very young age, but he had never asked. Parentage was a subject which both men studiously ignored. Beyond telling Jack that his father was dead, Ianto had never so much as mentioned him again, and even Jack's employer files were devoid of information on the subject.

It was the most prominent conclusion Ianto could draw as to the making of his employer. He knew from personal experience that it took more than a few bad friends and broken hearts to make a man build up such a heavy mask, even if one so experienced in that area as Ianto _could_ see through it right from the start.

He felt a fresh ache of empathy for his employer; a man who talked a great deal whilst saying very little, where Ianto preferred not to speak at all. He smiled softly, only half listening to the blues band on the stage before him. How he could not have foreseen himself feeling this way about Jack, at some point or another... it seemed so absurd, now.

* * *

Tommy had indeed become inspired by midday New York City. So inspired that he drafted Jack in as his jumping point, asking him to throw out words that reminded him of this place so that Tommy could start riffing lines, jumping around the flat in a whirlwind of creativity. Jack had to admit that, despite the circumstances and the constant desire to be alone with his valet, Tommy was really growing on him, for which he was relieved. He knew how it felt to come last on a supposed friend's list of priorities, and he had no desire to make Tommy feel that way.

He and Ianto only saw each other again for the serving of supper, then Ianto was off once more, dressed to the nines and looking – in Jack's opinion – delectable. Tommy went to 'bed' early once again, his body still struggling to cope with the shock of being awake during the day, and so Jack was left to a night with his thoughts and a brand new tub of Vaseline; half sulking that he was spending the honeymoon period of a new relationship _alone,_ and half brimming with anticipation for what their immediate future might hold.

* * *

The next day, fate conspired against them and brought unusually heavy rain to New York, ensuring a complete lack of escape from the flat. Tommy chose to sit at the vast lounge window mumbling about _'this grey city'_ or some such artistic nonsense, while Jack climbed the walls with boredom. Ianto had been forced to take the typewriter into the kitchen, quietly exasperated by Jack's twitchy behaviour. Their eyes had met and held several times during the morning, blue on blue with reflected tension, but Ianto was simply too busy to even offer him an opening for innuendo or flirtation.

He couldn't claim to be surprised when Jack entered the kitchen under the pretence of looking for a snack, bending down to pretend to read Ianto's report over his shoulder. Ianto fought hard to keep his hand steady, but Jack's breath was washing over his cheek, and his scent was filling the younger man's head with blurred sins...

Then his employer stood, grabbed a few biscotti from the jar next to the coffee machine and waltzed away as nothing had occurred. Later, with Tommy at the breakfast table rewriting Ianto's (ridiculously neat) scribblings in his own handwriting, Ianto stood alone in his bedroom preparing to change into his tuxedo once again when a wicked and vengeful idea occurred to him.

Inching open his bedroom door, he silently confirmed that Jack was just within his line of sight on the other side of the lounge, whereas Tommy couldn't see Ianto's bedroom at all from where he sat. Pulling the door a little wider, Ianto leaned on the frame and began to remove his tie, watching Jack and waiting for him to notice the movement.

It didn't take long. Jack raised his head from the sheet music he was flicking through as he became aware of some darkened motion from the corner of his eye, and looked up just as the tapered end of Ianto's tie parted from his collar. Throat immediately dry, he made no movements except for the dilating of his pupils as Ianto flicked open his top two shirt buttons. The jacket and waistcoat had been stripped already, so the crisp white cotton fell open and apart immediately as each button was released.

Ianto gazed lazily back with amusement, realising with a start that he truly _was_ a natural tease and that Jack would have to step up his game if he wished to compete. At last the shirt was open all the way, parting to reveal pale skin and dark hair, which Jack may as well have _shouted_ that he wanted to run his hands all over for all the subtlety of his expression.

Even from where he stood Ianto could see Jack's throat undulate wildly, and he chuckled softly to himself before casually stepping back and kicking the door closed with the toe of one highly-glossed shoe. _I win_.

Jack's dark glower when Ianto finally left the room looking immaculate and feeling deeply smug was a small price to pay. He cheerfully wished both his employer and Tommy a fine evening, to which the former replied with a dangerous growl while Tommy waved in all his mindless optimism.

Ianto was feeling too self-satisfied about his own risqué behaviour to worry too much about the last five clubs on the list. He handled all attention with a certain polite detachment that seemed to work well in making his admirers lose interest in him more quickly. Having previously assumed that part of this task was throwing himself into the mood of the night and the people around him, it was a relief to realise that it wasn't altogether necessary. He simply wasn't a social butterfly, and was entirely certain that he would never see any of these people again.

As the night wore on and the third and final club of the evening was soothing Ianto's tired mind with some Bessie Smith, there appeared at his elbow a young, eager and weasly-looking man, inching too closely with the air of somebody who wasn't sure if they recognised the person they were gawking at.

"May I help you, sir?" Ianto asked, fighting the urge to shift to the next seat.

"Oh, no... I mean, yes! Are you... I thought I knew... are you a friend of Jack Harkness?" the man asked, hope in his wide eyes.

"I'm his valet" Ianto corrected him, wondering why the man looked mildly surprised at the mention of his role as he extended a hand. "Ianto Jones."

"Ahh, valet... yes, I saw you at The Rift last week. I was talking to Jack at the bar. Nice surname, by the way" he grinned, shaking the proffered hand with great keenness. "Eugene Jones. Stage director, producer, writer, all of the above and more!"

"Pleased to meet you" Ianto murmured, unnerved by a man who possessed even more enthusiasm as Jack, with none of the charm.

"You see Ianto, I was having a wonderful talk with your boss that night, and I've been trying to call him, but the silly ass gave me the wrong number!" Eugene said with a snort. "I was hoping I'd bump into him around the city, actually... but now you're here, and that's just as good. If I could grab the number from you, I'd be _so_ grateful!"

Ianto rolled his eyes; trust Jack to get his own telephone number wrong. However, it wasn't a shock... he still did so in Cardiff after nearly six years in his Welsh home. It was actually a surprise that he knew _any_ part of his number here in New York. While this Eugene character didn't seem to be especially sparkling company, Ianto could see no reason why he shouldn't have his real telephone number if Jack had bothered to write one out to start with.

As if by magic, Eugene produced a small diary and a pen, and Ianto offered his most professionally polite smile once the deed was done.

"Ianto, you are a legend amongst butlers" the man announced.

"Thank you sir, but I'm not actually a but-"

"G'night, Mr Jones!"

Ianto watched him launch himself into the club's throng, clearly even more excitable than he had been on his arrival within Ianto's personal space. He idly watched the man mingle with some curiosity as to how he had held Jack's attention to the extent where he would give him his contact details at all. Recently, Jack had decided to hone what he fondly called an 'internal bullshit detector', which he had told Ianto was _sure_ to stop landing him in tight spots with people he didn't really like. Eugene Jones hardly seemed like Jack's ideal social partner, so either there was something enthralling about him that remained a mystery to himself, or Jack's bullshit detector was on the blink.

With a long sigh, Ianto decided that enough was enough. Only two more clubs on the list, then once tomorrow was over... blood rushed southwards so quickly that it left him feeling light-headed as he stood and slid neatly and inconspicuously from the club. The night air cooled his sudden ardour as it hit, and he chuckled to himself as a taxi door was immediately opened for him. He could hardly claim he felt like a teenager again, since his teen years were spent training for his profession, but the levels of desire Jack inspired within him certainly made him feel even more youthful than his years.

It was a peculiar emotion, yet by no means unwelcome.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

In which Jack and Ianto are allowed a little calm before the storm.

I forgot to say last week that the timing for C25 was rather pleasing, since gay marriage was legalised in New York the day before, where our boys are currently residing. It would have been more pleasing if that chapter hadn't been so rubbish, though. Special thanks to everybody who reviewed it, since I was deeply unhappy with it.

As always, more reviews are more than welcome. I love hearing what you think of where the story is going. Oh, and this chapter potentially strays into M, but again I don't think it's overly explicit.

* * *

"Sir, if you fail to open your eyes within the next ten seconds, I will be offering your coffee to Mr Brockless."

With a petulant flail of his limbs Jack glared at his young valet, who yet again had viciously opened his curtains at whatever ungodly hour it was and dragged Jack from some delicious unconscious images. Although, Jack had to concede that the waking image wasn't unwelcome, even if the subject was wearing decidedly more clothing than in his dream.

"What time is it, Jones?" he mumbled, flinging a forearm back over his eyes.

"Ten o'clock sir, the same time I wake you every morning" Ianto replied, his right eyebrow quirking northwards.

"Feels more like four" Jack groaned.

"Late night in, sir?"

Jack let his arm flop back down onto the pillow and glanced pointedly at the jar of lubricant on his bedside table. Ianto followed his line of sight before looking back at Jack, his expression blank and not even vaguely surprised.

"I was having a little _me_ time, in the absence of getting any _us_ time" his employer pouted.

"Mr Brockless didn't warrant an offer, sir?" Ianto asked breezily, and Jack kicked him gently in the shin.

"Brock really isn't my type, Jones. Besides which, I'm spoken for."

Ianto's eyes sparkled with mirth and he grasped the foot which was creeping its way up and attempting to rub at the groin of his freshly-pressed pinstripes.

"Oh come on, you owe me for that stunt you pulled" Jack protested, trying to wrench his toes free of Ianto's grip.

"Which stunt would that be, sir?" his valet smirked.

"You know what I mean, _Jones_" Jack growled, dragging out the younger man's surname with a dangerous flourish. "That little striptease."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have been so audacious as to watch me undress, sir" Ianto replied, and Jack was out of his grip and in his personal space in an instant, naked and visibly aroused as the blankets fell from his body.

"You" he whispered, backing Ianto up against the wardrobe with the power of his darkened eyes alone, "are on extremely treacherous ground, Ianto Jones. I'm the master of this game, and you're trying to play me."

"And, if I may be so bold, sir... I'm _winning_" Ianto whispered, raising his chin and pushing out his chest in defiance.

"Oh really, Jones?" Jack breathed, closing the gap between them and rolling his hips tight against Ianto's, confirming that he wasn't the only one in need of a little relaxation. Ianto breathed in deeply through his nose, refusing to audibly moan or show the weakness that currently threatened his knees.

Jack placed his hands either side of Ianto's head and thrust against him in slow motion once more, his erection dragging against the fabric of Ianto's tented trousers. He smirked, inwardly crowing in victory, until Ianto placed his own hands on Jack's shoulders and firmly pushed a little space between them.

"Harassment, sir" he stated, his voice deeper and more roughened than he would like. Jack let out a thwarted sigh.

"I hate you" he muttered.

"I find that extremely doubtful, sir."

Ianto imperceptibly shook himself, willing away the physical affects of Jack's onslaught. He couldn't deny (except to the other man) that Jack was _almost_ irresistible. Handsome, those perfect teeth, that cocky smile... and in the morning his hair was tousled, his eyes softened by sleep and his body usually naked and always eager.

However, Ianto had spent a great portion of his life training for the kind of restraint he now possessed, and he wasn't about to have that stripped away by one admittedly beautiful man.

Not during work hours, at least.

"You're right Jones, as always" Jack sighed, looking despondent to such a degree that Ianto wasn't convinced that it was false. Jack slumped back onto the bed with his shoulders hunched and against his more suspicious judgement, Ianto felt compelled to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You're not the only one who feels the strain, sir" he quietly admitted.

"I knew it" Jack replied, and before Ianto could process his tone Jack had tackled him onto the bed, hovering above his surprised and embarrassed valet.

"I do love to ruffle your feathers, Jones. It's so rare, I have to take it where I can get it" he purred, barely resisting the desire to drag Ianto's shirt from his trousers and shove his face beneath it.

Ianto glared up at him and gave his chest a push until Jack rolled, giggling, onto his back.

"What was that about _you_ winning, Jones?" Jack teased from his prone position, and Ianto could feel his those sparkling blue eyes raking over his form as he pulled himself to his feet with the utmost dignity.

"The cheapest of tricks, sir" Ianto said coolly, spinning on his heel and fixing Jack with a supercilious stare. "My own manner of playing this game is far more subtle."

"Subtle really isn't my style" Jack yawned.

"Yes sir, I can see that."

"Have you run my bath, Jones?"

"Yes, sir. What would you like to wear today?"

A slow, cruel smile spread across Jack's face.

"The white suit with the velvet piping I think, Jones" he said casually, and revelled in the split-second flash of disgust in Ianto's otherwise impassive expression.

"If you _must_, sir."

"Well it's that or this" Jack pointed at his naked body. Ianto made no further comment but allowed his eyes to run _slowly_ over his employer's skin, gaining the upper hand yet again as Jack squirmed beneath his scrutiny. He flashed a smile of wry acquiescence and finally left, leaving Jack leering after him and sipping his lukewarm coffee.

* * *

Once again, Ianto spent the day doing everything he could to avoid his employer. It wasn't just that Jack was pulling out all the stops in his attempts to wind the younger man up – or that he was wearing an outfit about which Ianto had blissful dreams of burning – but more specifically that one more lascivious grin would force Ianto to pin Jack down onto the dining table and teach him some manners. He had no intention of ruining his professional reputation or of breaking his promises to himself, and so the only answer was to keep out of Jack's way.

It worked, to a certain extent. Oh, there was the unmistakable brush of Jack's hand against the back of his left thigh while Ianto served lunch, and the usual double entendres which appeared to fly several miles above Tommy's head, but nothing the younger man couldn't handle with aplomb and respond to in his own aloof manner.

Jack watched Ianto like a hawk all day, cursing his complete calm and fidgeting in his own seat as he realised that last night's private exertions had done nothing to cool his ardour. He'd been accused of having an obsession with sex before now... but this wasn't just a need for sex. He craved intimacy, simply to have Ianto _to himself_. Ianto who played along with his games, Ianto with his talented hands, who never judged him (beyond his wardrobe), and who saw through his front in a way which should perhaps have concerned him more than it did. Yet wasn't that what he wanted? What _everybody _wanted... to be understood?

The only person who had ever come close to knowing him like Ianto did was Doc Smith, but his manner of learning a person was brusque and sometimes detrimental to the relationship. Ianto carefully peeled back invisible layers over time, almost unnoticed until he was sidestepping neatly into Jack's heart and setting up permanent residence there (whether the younger man realised it or not).

"Jones!" he called before he even knew what he was going to say, and within seconds his valet's expectant face appeared at the kitchen doorway, his slight smile dry and affectionate. Jack remembered a time when Ianto's mask was so impenetrable that hardly ever smiled; now, it seemed to come naturally. The warmth in the young man's eyes caused a surge of excitation to flutter its way through Jack's belly and chest, and he gracefully acknowledged to himself that he was totally, utterly lost.

"Can I help you, sir?" Ianto prompted, cocking his head ever so slightly to the right.

"Hmm? Oh yes, umm..." Jack floundered for a response.

"Perhaps you'd like a coffee, sir" Ianto offered – a statement, not a question.

Jack sighed, gazing knowingly back. One more point for Ianto.

"Yes please, Jones. Perhaps a cookie or two."

"Biscuit, sir." Ianto corrected.

"Cookie. We're in America." Jack haughtily replied.

"We have no cookies in, sir. Only biscuits."

Jack sighed again, heavier for dramatic effect. "Alright, may I have one of those distinctly cookie-like chocolate chip biscuits then, Jones?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Do all valets back-chat like Jones does?" Tommy asked, raising his eyes from his journal to smirk at Jack.

"No, only Jones" Jack assured him as Ianto slid silently back into the kitchen. "He knows he can get away with it."

Jack grinned at the empty doorway and allowed his mind to conjure up a few delightful ways he could 'punish' Ianto's insolence. Ways that potentially involved cookies.

* * *

Ianto was almost a little sorry to see the end of his jaunt into the social life of a bustling city. _Almost_.

The final two clubs were certainly well-placed for the last night of the experiment. They were by far the biggest of the list of ten, vibrant and, as it was a Friday, bursting at the seams. While he actually rather enjoyed his evening, and had done so for the most part with the previous three days, Ianto knew that he couldn't be one of those people who lived for such chaos.

Once again his mind flitted back to Jack, and the life he used to lead. Could he really be happy, spending night after night at home with his valet instead of absorbing the cocktail-soaked glamour of places like this? Ianto would never stop him from going out and releasing his energy on the world; it was always Jack who would stretch and yawn on the sofa and ask Ianto to crack out the scotch because he was having another evening in with his 'Taffy sidekick', as he sometimes referred to him.

Now that they were... _involved_... Ianto wondered if Jack would continue that trend for other reasons. Perhaps he would feel that he _had_ to stay in with his lover, especially knowing that Ianto kept almost no casual friends and wasn't one to frequent bars. Ianto was determined that his daily life with Jack wouldn't suffer because of their blossoming relationship, and promised himself that he would take action if he saw even a hint of Jack becoming restless or trying to coddle him.

* * *

As expected, the flat was shrouded in darkness when Ianto returned, and he huffed a quiet chuckle at the sight of Tommy's lanky form splayed across the sofa, the angles of his limbs illuminated by the moon. He tugged apart his bow tie and stepped straight into his bedroom, feeling weary and a little tense but ultimately relieved that tomorrow, life would return to normal. Well... as normal as life with Jack Harkness was ever likely to be. He laughed softly to himself again, skin prickling with heat and his stomach fluttering at the mere thought of his employer, as he reached over to switch on the lamp.

"Something funny?" a voice from behind him muttered and Ianto faltered in unbuttoning his shirt just for a second, before turning around to see Jack push himself off from the wall, completely naked. The fluttering increased tenfold and he could _feel_ his pupils dilating.

"Please don't tell me you want a coffee _now_, sir" Ianto whispered, even as the sight of Jack's body made his blood pump so hard that he could _hear_ it.

Jack offered him a lopsided grin, his eyes flashing dark in the low light until he stopped a foot in front of Ianto.

"Believe it or not, Ianto, coffee isn't the only thing that gets me through the day."

Ianto shivered in a completely visceral response to Jack using his first name, and abandoned his shirt buttons in favour of firmly cupping Jack's cheek with one warm palm. The other man leaned in to his touch, eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly.

"You shouldn't be here, Jack" he murmured, leaning closer until the heat radiating from Jack's flesh was almost unbearable when he himself was still fully clothed.

"I'm _not_ waiting any longer" Jack hissed through clenched teeth, and then Ianto's mouth was on his, warm and wet and demanding.

If asked, Ianto wouldn't have been able to explain _where_ his clothes disappeared to during the thirty seconds that followed, but once he was on top of his comfortable little bed, kissing through his own breathlessness and not caring that it was making him light-headed as he dug his fingers into Jack's firm buttocks, it simply didn't matter.

"Can you keep quiet?" he asked in a hoarse whisper as Jack – who had apparently lubricated himself in advance – a fact which made Ianto so achingly hard he thought he might blow apart – rolled on top and wedged Ianto's torso tightly between his thighs.

"I can _try_" Jack smirked, rutting back against Ianto's erection until the younger man moaned and grabbed his hips. He chose not to mention that Ianto wasn't exactly silent under the right circumstances.

"Mr Brockless is in the next room, Jack. We have to be careful" Ianto warned, wishing he was able to sound a little more stern when Jack's nails were raking lightly down his chest.

Jack only nodded, indicating that the time for talking was over.

As it was, with Jack rolling his hips in constant circles and changing tempo every minute or so, both men were able to keep their noise down to panting breaths and grunts of frustration. Ianto's appreciation for the way Jack was attempting to make their reunion last was short lived however, and his bed frame creaked in protest when he pulled the older man against his chest and rolled him onto his back. He slid lithely back between Jack's thighs as if he was made to be there, and kissed him hard to steal the groans before they begun in earnest.

As they quaked and lost their rhythm, Ianto was forced to clamp his palm down on Jack's mouth to dam the stream of husky, pleading words, while Jack in turn slid two fingers between Ianto's teeth and stroked his over-active tongue with them in a gesture that made Ianto's eyes roll back uncontrollably in his skull.

Finally, _thankfully_, Jack arched his spine and dug his heels hard into the dimples above Ianto's backside, frantically attempting to cry out his lover's name beneath skin which tasted of sweat and smoke as he hit his peak and rode every last wave of release. Ianto bit down on his fingers so hard that it should have been unpleasant, instead of adding a new dimension to his pleasure. The younger man jerked above him, his head falling back and the tension leaving his face as the tip of his tongue lapped apologetically at Jack's knuckles, the violent rush of orgasm slowly leaving him.

Smiling at him with his eyes, Jack tapped Ianto's wrist and his lover quickly removed the hand from his mouth, releasing Jack's own fingers from the sensual embrace of his tongue at the same time.

"Sorry, Jack" he murmured, brushing his thumb lightly along his employer's lower lip. "Did I hurt you?"

Jack ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned.

"No harm done" he replied, hoping for the sake of Ianto's conscience that his face wasn't bruised in the morning.

Ianto leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to the corner of Jack's mouth, filled with fond promise before touching his forehead to his lover's.

"I missed this" he whispered, his voice more raw and impassioned than Jack had ever heard from him.

"Addicted already, huh?" he joked, swallowing down a sudden tumult of long-lost emotion. Ianto hummed non-committally, pulling back with a bemused little smile and removing himself from Jack's embrace. Jack immediately regretted his flippancy and caught Ianto's elbow, sitting up with only a slight wince of discomfort and kissing him with all of the feeling he was sure he wasn't articulate enough to express in words.

"Ianto... thank you" he whispered, running his hand up his valet's arm and relishing the way the goosebumps rose beneath warm skin.

Ianto swallowed hard, silently cursing the fact that Jack would have heard the action, and allowed their noses to brush together as he nodded. For the first time in far longer than he could remember – potentially _ever_ – he had no idea what to say.

"I'd better get back to my room" Jack said, making no attempt to hide his disappointment at the inevitable. It wasn't worth the risk of being spotted emerging naked from his valet's bedroom in the morning.

"I fear so, sir" Ianto replied, itching to clean himself off but not wishing to spoil this. Jack was making no attempt to move and they were sharing breath, holding hands and absorbing the smell of one another. Ianto, however, could no longer deny his exhaustion. The burst of sexual energy had given way to an intense, though satisfying, tiredness and he turned his head away to yawn.

Jack opened his mouth again to say something, anything, even some platitude about how beautiful Ianto looked all bright-eyed and flushed... but in the end, all he could do was smile.

"See you in the morning then, Ianto" he murmured, kissing the young man once more on the cheek before removing himself from that inviting bed which forced them to cling together like twin limpets.

Ianto stretched himself along his mattress – _bugger cleaning up,_ he surprised himself by thinking – and watched his lover leave.

"Goodnight, Jack" he whispered, raising his fingers in an affectionate little half-wave, to which Jack responded with a blown kiss just as the edges of the younger man's mind began to blur and he slid contentedly into unconsciousness.

* * *

By lunch time the next day, Tom Brockless had left the flat.

Ianto was working on his final report even before waking Jack at ten, and by eleven, Tommy was feverishly finishing the last of his rewritten letters and shoving it into an envelope with triumph.

"I don't know how to thank you, Jones" he enthused, clamping the young man to his chest in a brutal bear hug before Ianto could respond.

"You're, err, very welcome sir" he replied, awkwardly patting Tommy's back and glaring at a smirking Jack.

"And Jackie, old bean! You're a sport, you know that?"

"Very kind of you to say so, Brock" Jack grinned, accepting his own hug with a little more grace and reflecting that he really had enjoyed his time with Tommy, in the end. Despite Ianto being firmly within the forefront of his mind, he'd had fun with the poet and knew that his valet was right about keeping this one as a friend. Ianto was _always_ right.

"Whenever you're back in the States, do come visit, won't you?" Tommy implored.

"Of course!" Jack nodded, picking up Tommy's suitcase before Ianto could do so and seeing his friend out of the door.

Ianto listened to them exchange a few more words and idly wondered how on earth he was going to get the sofa looking presentable again, when abruptly Jack was in front of him and his eyes were filled with fire.

"Sir" he uttered, eyebrows rising as Jack licked his lips.

"Well Jones, it's just you and me again."

"You and _I _is more widely acceptable, sir."

"Oh shut up and drop your trousers, Jones."

* * *

It took some convincing, but Jack was able to persuade Ianto that he needed an afternoon off following four laborious nights in a row. The arguments about having a great deal of housework to do were quickly lost in Jack's mouth, yet still Ianto tried several times to remove himself from the arms of his insistent employer.

Only when Jack _ordered_ him to take the rest of the day off, and then explained that as such, he wasn't breaking any of those little self-imposed barriers in letting Jack ravish him, did Ianto give in and kiss Jack back with unexpected fervour.

In the diminutive comfort of Ianto's bed, Jack revelled in enjoying him in the daylight, able to see things he hadn't noticed by the glow of a lamp. He counted and kissed every freckle, each chicken pox scar, and a little patch of textured skin that he assumed to be a burn from Ianto's heroic efforts at the wreckage of Torchwood London... but he didn't ask.

Ianto already knew exactly when Jack wanted him simply stay where he was and enjoy, and this was one of those times. He closed his eyes and stroked whatever part of Jack he could reach to gently encourage him, realising through his pleasured haze that what he was was receiving was essentially a full-body massage. He felt as if he was sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress until his flesh and bones were no longer attached to his mind, and he knew – too lost in bliss to be startled by it – that Jack Harkness was the only person he had ever or would ever allow to remove his sense of self-control to this extent.

He also knew with complete confidence and a total lack of surprise that he must be hopelessly in love with him to not only allow it, but crave _more_.

"Hi there" Jack murmured above him, and Ianto opened his eyes to see all of his own feelings reflected in Jack's expression.

"Hello" he replied in a hoarse whisper, deciding in that moment that he wanted to prove both to Jack and himself that he could let go completely. So when Jack asked him sweetly what he most desired and Ianto pressed his lips to his employer's ear to tell him in the politest terms possible, Jack could only stare longingly at him with his mouth agape, seeming to understand the gravity of the request the moment it was uttered.

Jack was painstakingly careful, and he had to remind Ianto to relax a few times, but then it was happening and it felt _strange_... a completely different act to when Ianto was the one making love to Jack. Being within Jack, as mind-meltingly intense as it was, allowed him to maintain a certain degree of his own personal power and he could fool himself that he was in control. This was different. He knew he wasn't powerless but this, in this position, he was at Jack's mercy in the most intimate way imaginable and it was new. It was breathtaking.

It didn't take long for Ianto to see, to _feel_ the appeal of it, knowing now why it made Jack babble and groan frantic words... and as Jack slid his arms beneath Ianto's arched spine to hold him as close as was humanly possible, he felt the last of his personal reserve slip away in a breathless kiss.

Jack fussed over him afterwards, as Ianto knew he would, and he buried his face against his employer's throat to hide his embarrassment in the light of post-sex questions. He began to press open-mouthed kisses where his lips lay and the words stopped, turning into unintelligible noise as the caresses spread and the younger man's soft tongue came out to play.

Ianto came to the steadfast decision that the only way to prove that he was fine was to do it all again. So they did.

And it really shouldn't have been a surprise that a single telephone call could spoil a perfect day.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Morning all! It's that time again, and today we get a deeper glimpse into Ianto's hidden depths.

I feel as if for that reason, this chapter comes at a perfect time. Two years ago today (10th of July 2009), Day Five of Children of Earth was broadcast on BBC television, meaning that yesterday was the two year anniversary of Ianto's death.

It only takes the barest glance through the Torchwood section of to see that Ianto still remains firmly in our hearts. As such I'm also pleased that this upload and this anniversary run so close to the broadcast of Miracle Day; it's been two years and I'm ready to move on to something new, so I'm really excited for this series (I didn't think I would be, but the core-deep Whovian in me has ensured it) whilst keeping one foot firmly in the world of fanfiction where Ianto remains very much alive. This is what I love about sci-fi, nobody ever truly dies – especially not when radio plays pay posthumous tribute on the run-up to this new direction Torchwood has taken.

I hope the other UK fans will be watching with me this Thursday. Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and alerts as always, and I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter.

Note: I respect anybody's choice to ignore Miracle Day if they so wish, so I'd appreciate it if those people would respect my choice to watch it and not allow that to affect their judgement of me or my story. I shouldn't have to defend myself but it's clearly quite a sensitive subject on fanfic forums, so let's agree to disagree. Just remember that nobody dies in my story.

Note #2: While I'm cluttering up this chapter, could I be so bold as to recommend When The Stars Turn Blue by the lovely riftintime? Not that my help is required because the story is already wildly compelling, but it really is worth the read.

I'm shutting up now.

* * *

Oh, how Jack wished he hadn't picked up the receiver.

He'd been doing his valet a favour, dashing naked to the telephone while Ianto was putting together an early dinner dressed in his pyjamas (as much as Jack had tried to convince him to perform the duties nude). Ianto had put down his spoon the moment the telephone began to ring, snapping immediately into work mode until Jack placed a hand on his chest and reminded the young man that it was his afternoon off.

"Sir, you already manipulated me into bed, there's no need to maintain this façade" Ianto had smirked.

"Don't make me spank you for being insolent, Mr. Jones" Jack growled in return and ran into the hallway before the ringing could end. As the voice on the other end immediately began to chatter with mindless enthusiasm and Jack's mind placed an image to the sound, he had to force himself not to groan aloud.

"Jack? Jack Harkness? That's you, isn't it? It's Eugene Jones! I've been trying to get in touch with you buddy, how _are_ you? Listen, I've been trying my best with that Harper fella and it just isn't working out. Problem is he's threatening me with legal proceedings claiming some hokum about a 'verbal contract', so he won't do anything less than understudying the lead... but that's fine, because you'll be great and I just _know _you won't let me down! So, rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Err..." Jack faltered, taking a moment to process all of that and momentarily wondering if he could get away with pretending to be somebody else. After all, he'd given Eugene a false number... hadn't he? He was sure he had changed it at the last second, unless he was so distracted by his date with Ianto that evening that the thought hadn't made its way onto the paper.

"Eugene, hi" he said, deciding he was already buggered. "So, uhh... what's the problem with the Harper guy?"

"Oh Jack he's horribly pretentious, a complete scene-stealer and he looks down his nose at _everybody_. We all hate him! But I can't shake him off the production completely. I need you in that lead role, Jackie. You did say that if things didn't work out with James, you'd at _least_ audition..."

Did Jack agree to that? The start of the evening was admittedly hazy, completely overshadowed by the delicious events that followed... his toes curled in the deep-pile carpet as he reminisced, a very specific warmth flooding his naked body.

"...ack? Jack? Are you there, pal?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here" Jack snapped, irritated at being dragged from the reminder of Ianto's heaving chest pressed against his own sweat-slicked spine.

"Come along to rehearsal at midday tomorrow, okay? I swear Jack, you're beyond perfect for this, you belong on the stage."

"Yeah, okay, I'll be there" Jack replied, just to shut him up. He was unsure whether he actually would turn up, too shaken up by Eugene's startling forthrightness (again) to make any decisions.

"Okay, get a piece of paper so I can tell you the address. We both know your memory for details is terrible." Eugene chuckled and Jack felt his hackles rise.

"How would _you_ know what my memory for details is like?" he demanded, propping his spare hand on his hipbone with indigence.

"Well you did get your own telephone number wrong when you gave it to me!"

Jack barely refrained from cursing. He _did_ give Eugene a false number... so how the hell was he on the other end of the telephone line right now?

"Yeah, well, wouldn't be the first time" he said with a hollow laugh. "So how did you get the real one?"

"Your... what did he call himself... _valet_ gave it to me. Bumped into him at a club, I forget which one."

Jack's eyes narrowed and he glared a the closed kitchen door, a new heat which had nothing to do with lust rising in his chest.

"He just _gave_ you my number?" he pressed.

"I explained to him that the number you gave me was wrong, that I was trying to get in touch and that we already knew each other" Eugene told him.

Jack continued to scowl at nothing and itched to drop the telephone and storm in there to give Ianto a piece of his mind, but somehow found the strength to first take down the address of Eugene's theatre and give him a few empty promises before hanging up with dignity. Then, he strode into the kitchen with a face like thunder and watched with a certain satisfaction as he actually managed to make Ianto start slightly with the slam of the door.

"Distressing news, sir?" Ianto asked dryly, carefully spooning his home-made ratatouille and chicken breast onto two plates.

"Yeah, you could say that, Jones" Jack fumed. "What were you thinking?"

Ianto turned to face him, head cocked to one side.

"When, sir? I do a great deal of thinking."

"Apparently not when you bumped into Eugene goddamned Jones the other night!"

A crease formed between Ianto's eyes as it dawned on him that Jack wasn't just being dramatic – he was genuinely vexed.

"Could you elaborate, sir?" he requested, feeling oddly nervous in the face of such intense irritation. Though he had seen Jack like this before, the mood had almost never been directed specifically at Ianto.

"Gladly!" Jack growled, pacing the kitchen floor and looking too annoyed for his clothing-lessness to even seem ridiculous.

"That odious man tried to get me into his damn musical when I met him at The Rift, kept going on about my perfect face or some nonsense, and wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to let him call me if his other lead man proved to be useless" Jack explained, remembering more of the conversation as he spoke before he stopped and glowered at Ianto once more. "So I gave him a _fake_ telephone number because I didn't want him calling me, Jones! Why the hell would you give my real number to a stranger?"

Ianto opened and closed his mouth, his frown deepening as a low burn of infuriation – something he hadn't felt since fleeing Jack and his oboe – began to rise.

"And how exactly was I supposed to know that you did _not _want him procuring your real telephone number, sir?" he asked icily. "You know a wide variety of people and I've seen you hand your number to virtual strangers in the past. Mr Jones explained the situation to me and it seemed perfectly feasible that you could have made a mistake."

Jack flushed, defensiveness uncoiling within him as his mind honed in on what was fast becoming a full-blown complex.

"So this is what it boils down to" he growled, "you think I'm stupid, just like everybody else I know."

"I didn't say that, sir" Ianto replied, watching with trepidation as the familiar sight of Irrational Jack rose to the surface and temporarily consumed Normal Jack.

"I couldn't possibly remember my own telephone number, could I? You two must have had a right laugh at idiotic ol' Jack Harkness!"

"I don't think you're stupid" Ianto stated quietly.

"Of course not, that's why you took it upon yourself to land me in hot water!"

"Jack, I had no idea who he was or what his intentions were." Ianto stood with his hands spread in surrender. Jack looked like an animal who had been caged for a long stretch of time, unpredictable and ready to attack.

"And isn't that a wonderful reason to give him my contact details, not knowing a damn thing about him!" Jack ranted, then went in for the kill before he could think it through; "who the hell do you think you are, anyway? You're not as far above me in your little ivory tower as you think!"

Ianto's eyes widened, blazing with fury as crimson swiftly suffused his cheeks. He strode forward, not caring how Jack might react and thoroughly invaded his personal space.

"And who do you think _you_ are?" he hissed, Jack instantly struck dumb in reaction to how dangerous he sounded by not raising his voice. "I clear up after you day in, day out, no questions asked and that's the way you like it. But I make _one_ mistake and it's the end of the world, because... what... I'm just _the help?"_

Ianto had leaned closer and closer until Jack was able to feel his breath and smell his anger, so much more powerful than his own paltry temper tantrum which had already shrivelled and died to be replaced by a wave of shame... and a thick bolt of lust in the face of immense passion from a thoroughly controlled man. It was one thing seeing him come undone during sex, laughing at jokes, but the heat of the wrath rolling off him in waves...

"N-no... no, you're much more than that" he croaked, his gaze flicking down to Ianto's lips. Forcing himself to meet Ianto's eyes once more, he thought for a split second that perhaps a little of that fierce annoyance had morphed into a different kind of intensity... and moment later, with Ianto's mouth attacking his own in a demanding fervour, the theory was confirmed. Jack promptly took his lover's face in both hands and poured all of his apology into the firm caress, trying to form the words in his mind while every swipe of Ianto's tongue against his own stole them away.

Ianto pushed at Jack until his back hit the pantry door, allowing his hands to wander without finesse or restraint. The animalistic ardour taking control of his body terrified him. He had always wanted to take his time with Jack's flesh, savour it and be constantly aware of his employer's enjoyment. This new, selfish train of non-thought gave him a feeling of drunkenness complete with the unpleasant notion that this wasn't a wise idea. But his blood continued to boil in response to Jack's thoughtless words and he just wanted to _feel _him, to have him at his mercy.

Jack was willing and pliant in his arms and so when he rubbed his entire naked body against Ianto's and made a sound that could only be construed as absolute supplication, it was so very easy to utilise both the sturdy kitchen table and the little jug of olive oil which stood half-empty upon it. By the time Ianto was fully aware of what he was doing, Jack was already underneath him, arching and scratching at the dark walnut beneath his hands, and Ianto's hands were gripping at his shoulders to anchor every deep, firm rock of his hips.

* * *

"I'm sorry" Jack murmured into Ianto's neck, curling closer into him as they sat sprawled on the kitchen floor with only Ianto's discarded pyjamas to soothe the chilly bite of the tiled floor. "It wasn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have been so presumptuous" Ianto replied, lightly running his fingers over the pink marks adorning Jack's shoulder.

"You did nothing wrong, Ianto. Everything you said is true; there was no reason for you not to trust Eugene. Christ, it was just a phone number..." Jack laughed incredulously, almost disbelieving now that he'd become so worked up over something so trivial, to the point where he'd forced Ianto's otherwise steady hand while hurting his feelings. He could _feel _the young man's layers of control mounting back up, and was at once glad of and sorry for it.

"Ianto?" he asked when it seemed no response was forthcoming.

"Sir?"

"Is that really how I come across? Do I make you feel... inferior in your job?"

"No, Jack. You don't. It was the heat of the moment talking, it doesn't matter now."

A quiet moment passed, before Ianto continued; "you do have occasional moments of presenting yourself as an irrational Neanderthal, I should add."

Jack laughed, relaxing in Ianto's embrace. He had never really considered himself to have an especially short temper, but paranoia was something he had in spades, as much as he attempted to bury it. It was the idea of Ianto thinking less of him than he did which had caused Jack to panic and his defences to rise, not what he had done.

"I'm well aware of that" he admitted. "Just so you know... I don't think you're a prig, either."

"I know I can seem aloof sir, and perhaps I step out of line more than I should in a professional capacity. I'm-"

"Don't apologise Jones, please." Jack shook his head. He pulled back a little to look into Ianto's eyes, seeing a noticeable lack of sureness and a presence of regret, overlaying the sting of Jack's barbed words.

"I can't encourage you to be relaxed and informal around me one minute then tear a strip off you for taking initiative the next. You're not a mind-reader, and you're not my slave. I won't ever talk to you like that again."

Ianto smiled, the curve of his lips bitter-sweet. "You can't make that promise, Jack."

Jack inwardly winced, understanding the implication that he couldn't _keep_ that promise, and it was undoubtedly true. Sooner or later Jack would fly off the handle over something completely insignificant again, and spout hurtful drivel before he could stop himself.

"You're right" he admitted, "but as long as you know that I don't _mean_ it... I could never mean it. There's nobody I've ever held in higher regard than you, Ianto. I may still say and do _really _stupid things, but you're making me better all the time."

His voice dropped to a whisper and he hung his head, kissing Ianto's collar bone. Ianto rested his cheek on the crown on his lover's head and sighed to himself. He knew Jack hadn't meant it, but the words had struck a nerve. A life spent carving out a career that quite often involved being looked down upon had strengthened his own sense of detached dignity, and he was quite certain that many people had thought him cold and uptight over the years. Of course being a valet was a particularly sophisticated take on what was still essentially servitude, and he became so good at it by being everything his various masters had required, but he was also human... and nobody knew that better than Jack.

"As you are me" he eventually murmured into Jack's hair.

"I don't think you can get any better" Jack chuckled.

"I'd like to" Ianto replied, and Jack decided to drop it. "Did I hurt you?"

Jack looked up at him again. "Hmm? Oh... no" he grinned impishly. "Quite the opposite. You know, I've heard a lot of good things about angry sex in my time, and I have to say, it lives up to its reputation."

An unusual shade of scarlet crept up Ianto's throat as he cleared it uncomfortably.

"I cannot _believe _we just... on the _table... _I'll be scrubbing it for days before I can bring myself to prepare food upon it again" he mumbled. Jack laughed again and kissed his cheek, feeling the warmth of embarrassment glow from his cheeks.

"You are ridiculously beautiful when you're angry, you know."

"I shouldn't have lost control like th-"

Jack swiftly shut him up with a kiss and rested his forehead against Ianto's when it ended.

"It wouldn't be called 'losing control' if you could stop it" he pointed out, "besides which, you won't hear any complaints from me."

"Jack" Ianto whispered just for the sake of saying it, placing a hand on his lover's cheek and rubbing lightly with his thumb.

"Ianto?" Jack nuzzled into the touch, gazing with bright eyes through his lashes, the curve of his strong jaw drawing Ianto's attention, the bow of his upper lip demanding to be lapped at, his perfect nose throwing an angular shadow, and...

"Our dinner must be cold by now" he mumbled, voice hoarse with an emotion he was struggling to do justice to.

Jack dropped his eyes to the floor and smiled, patting Ianto's arm.

"Come on, let's eat. Then we can figure out what to do about Eugene. Who knew there were such unappealing Joneses in the world?"

* * *

By the following morning, Jack was resigned to meeting with Eugene Jones and the rest of his cast. Ianto had surprised him by stating he thought the idea of Jack doing something creative like that might be a good idea.

"You do love music, sir" he had pointed out as they lay pressed tightly together on the Welshman's bed. "In fact, all forms of entertainment. In actuality, I'm surprised that it's not something you have considered before."

"Aunt Alice thinks of acting as the lowest possible human endeavour, Jones" Jack snorted. "I can't imagine how she'd react if I so much as touched a big toe to the boards."

"How would she find out, sir?" Ianto asked, and Jack had to concede that he was right. She wouldn't. And it _could_ be fun...

"It's two weeks of your life, Jack. It could even become a hobby for you when we return to Wales, and you'd be spending time with like-minded individuals."

"Trying to get rid of me already?" Jack asked, not entirely joking.

"You're a social person, Jack. I won't hold you back from that" Ianto firmly stated.

"And as you've said before, I managed to lose most of my friends back home" Jack added, feeling only a slight pang of regret.

"They never deserved you" Ianto whispered, pressing a final kiss to Jack's hair that ensured the older man fell asleep feeling thoroughly supported and cared for.

So it was that they found themselves in a taxi bound for Eugene's studio. Ianto allowed the scenery to distract him from Jack's _heinous _new blazer, thoroughly back inside his comfortable, reserved shell. He still felt a little disturbed by his outburst the on the previous day, deciding that he was becoming too casual with Jack during work hours. The lines between professional and personal were blurring already and he simply wasn't emotionally prepared for it. As much as he loved Jack, and he was absolutely certain that he did, he would not risk their relationship by completely releasing his hold on himself.

"Good lord, this is... it's..."

"Unexpected, sir?"

"Yes, Jones... that works for me."

The theatre was, at least from the outside, a work of art deco beauty. The inside didn't disappoint either, with a vast gleaming lobby where Jack's potential director awaited them with a sweaty brow and an expression of vast relief.

"You came!" he declared, clasping Jack's hand far too tightly.

"Of course, I said I would... hi, Eugene" Jack smiled, with only Ianto able to see its falseness.

"Mr. Jones" Ianto nodded.

"Mr. Jones" Eugene grinned back. He glanced between Jack and Ianto in a manner which he clearly thought of as subtle, and Ianto frowned at the silent judgement.

"Right then, come along! I've got a script freshly printed for you Jackie. Lots to get through today; I just know you'll be spectacular!"

* * *

Jack's audition went, according to Eugene, 'like a dream'. Given his blatant desperation, his enthusiasm wasn't a surprise and Jack shot a withering look at Ianto, who simply smirked from the opposite end of the room.

"So what do you think, Jack?" Eugene asked, his hands clasped together in prayer. "Will you take the part, for me? For _yourself_? Hundreds would kill for this opportunity and I'm handing it to you on a plate..."

Jack sighed and glanced around his possible co-stars, most of whom looked fairly indifferent and just glad to be working. One or two scowled at him for the easy break he'd been given, and he suddenly felt selfish for his reluctance. Perhaps it could be enjoyable; maybe even fulfilling.

"Let me just consult my valet" he said, not wanting to make any decisions before he was sure of Ianto's opinion. He would not simply trust his own judgement when he had a companion who was far more intelligent and sensible than himself close at hand.

"Come on then Jones, what's your professional opinion?" he asked, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially as he approached.

"The dialogue needs a little work, sir. It fails to flow as well as it has the potential to."

"Not about the play, about me being _in_ the play!" Jack sighed in exasperation, acknowledging the teasing curve of Ianto's lips.

"I maintain that it could be good for you, sir" Ianto said, gazing around the plush little theatre with approval. "You may even become an overnight sensation."

"The next Clark Gable, perhaps" Jack grinned. "I even get to wear a false moustache for this."

"It sounds as if you've made your decision, sir" Ianto said, and Jack's smile widened.

"Alright, I'll do it" he declared, loudly enough for Eugene to hear him and sprint over, almost knocking him to the floor in the rush to shake his hand.

"You won't regret this, Jackie! I've got the written contract all ready to go. I'm not taking any more risks since James pulled all that binding verbal nonsense! Oh... speak of the devil..."

Eugene looked past Jack and towards the figure approaching, the man's posture screaming that he was the king of any room he entered. The various mingling cast and crew members parted from his path like the Red Sea, and James didn't stop until he was directly in front of Jack, shoving Eugene aside with a broad shoulder and flashing a true Hollywood grin.

"James Harper" he stated, his tone dark and sweet like molasses. "Your understudy, I believe. Wonderful to meet you."

Jack raised his eyebrows, momentarily stunned into silence by James' striking looks and surprisingly friendly manner. He was around Jack's own height with dark hair, tanned skin, light green eyes and what was clearly a toned, muscular body beneath the navy trousers and cream shirt he wore, sleeves rolled to the elbow to show off his forearms and hands. He reached out and clasped Jack's fingers tightly, lingering a little too long for a stranger.

"You too" he replied eventually, while a clearly agitated Eugene composed himself.

"James, this is Jack Harkness, your very capable replacement. Now I don't want any aggravation... I'm only keeping you here at all because you kicked up such a fuss, but it's not my fault you're impossible to work with. You're a pain in my ass but you need to toe the line. Jack is going to be great in the lead role and you'll support him in every way you can, got it?"

James hadn't looked at Eugene once during his diatribe, instead making a show of studying Jack's face and ensuring he displayed his appreciation.

"Oh don't worry Eugene, I think we're going to get along just fine" he said, his smile softening in a manner which spoke so intensely of invitation that it surprised even Jack. He simply nodded, and James took one last long look at him before spinning on his heel and making a dramatic exit.

"He seems okay to me" Jack shrugged, dragging his eye-line away from swaying hips.

"Just you wait for the sulking and tantrums. You have _any_ trouble with him Jack, you tell me immediately. I cannot wait for a good excuse to get rid of that jerk."

Eugene left Jack and Ianto to grab the contract and Jack leaned against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with his companion.

"So that was the notorious James Harper."

"Apparently so, sir."

"I had no idea he was... so _hot_" Jack said, huffing a short laugh.

Ianto gave him a sidelong glance and murmured "you may not have to keep your inclinations a secret from me sir, but I do _not_ wish to know your judgement of the attractive gentlemen who come your way."

Jack chuckled and elbowed Ianto gently in the ribs, leaning into him. "Jones, surely you're not jealous?"

"Absolutely not, sir. I'd simply rather you kept your fetish for chiselled, tanned, smooth-talking actors to yourself."

Taking a quick look around them first, Jack pressed closer until his lips brushed Ianto's ear and whispered "there's not a more beautiful creature in this room, Jones – in _any_ room, in fact, than you. And you're the only one for me."

Ianto couldn't stop his own smile sly smile, or the shiver that crept down his spine at Jack's close proximity in a public place.

"Good to know, sir" he murmured back, only the warmth in his eyes belying his cool exterior. Ianto was not a man who succumbed to intimidation, but he could already tell that he would need to keep an eye on James Harper and his over-active eyelashes. The man had practically asked Jack to bed through only the barest of introductions – and yes, alright, he was _very _handsome – but there was something else that Ianto didn't trust about him. Everybody supposedly loathed him, so why was he acting so sickeningly sweet to Jack?

The thought was tucked to the back of his mind as Eugene returned with the contract, which both Jack and Ianto read together before it was eventually signed. Jack's only additional request was that Ianto was able to remain with him throughout the tour, to which Eugene was forced to agree.

By the time basic script run-throughs began later that day, Jack was feeling really rather pleased with his lot in life; and if he was happy, so was Ianto.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

What-ho! Sunday again, I'm afraid. This is a bit of filler before the tour gets rolling, really, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway. Feel free to let me know, aye or nae!

This chapter is dedicated to **brionyjae**, who kept me distracted with a lengthy and excitable Skype conversation all morning, when I should have been working on this bloody story. Honestly, woman...

* * *

For the next seven days, Jack and the rest of the cast rehearsed as if their lives depended on it – which for some of them, wasn't far from the truth. On Ianto's advice, Jack consistently attempted to endear himself to his co-stars, feeling increasingly self-conscious about the ease with which he stepped into the lead when many of them had been working towards their supporting roles for years. To his relief, most of them had to grudgingly accept that if it was a choice between Jack – a damn lucky newcomer – and James Harper, they would choose the former every time, and he took that as the best reaction he was likely to get.

James remained a mystery to him. Nobody, absolutely _nobody_ had a good word to say about him, but every time the two of them came together for a one-to-one, with James (who knew the script so much better) offering hints and running through lines with him, Jack wondered why on earth he was so unpopular. He was generous, helpful, seemingly humble... and apparently had no issue with taking every opportunity to touch Jack, aiding him in his positions and stance in a particularly tactile manner.

Even when they weren't alone, Jack could often feel James' intense olive-green gaze on him, following him about the stage, in the studio, and at the club Eugene took them to for a mid-week rest. If there was only one thing Jack was perceptive at, it was knowing when somebody was attracted to him, and James' attention was far more than just a passing appraisal. He had yet to actually make a suggestion or a move, but it was clear as day... and Jack was intrigued.

However, he was fully prepared with exactly what he would say if James _did_ ever make his intentions known. He'd be lying if he said he was unaffected by the other man – those wide eyes had the capacity to make his skin prickle with heat and the timbre of his voice was no less than heavenly – but Jack loved a man who could set him on fire with a glance and bring him to the edge of orgasm with only a word. A man who guided him through his dialogue and soothed him with a teasing remark when he grew tired and irritated. A man who dodged his advances during the day with an enjoyably frustrating grace, and gave him anything he could ever wish for come nightfall.

No; as appealing as James Harper might be, Ianto Jones was wildly superior.

* * *

Ianto spent the entire week of rehearsal the way he normally would at home – in the background. Except not only did he have nothing to do, but he wasn't receiving Jack's entire attention, and the feeling was a bizarre one. He'd had no idea how used to being noticed and watched he'd become, after so many years of being part of the furniture; something Jack had never allowed. Now, Jack had another focus, but Ianto couldn't deny the feeling of pride as he watched him learn his lines and sing his songs with a degree of dedication Ianto hadn't seen since The Oboe Incident... the main difference being that he was actually rather good at acting.

The downside of having so little to do was wasting too much time trailing after Jack whilst keeping an eye on James. It was glaringly obvious to a man like Ianto that James was buddying up to Jack in a manner he'd clearly never seen fit to do with his other colleagues, and Ianto was trying (and repeatedly failing) to discern his ulterior motive. Jack was his replacement, so shouldn't James loathe him? Where was the reasoning for being so sickeningly sweet? Unless, of course, Ianto was simply being unnecessarily suspicious... though he refused to acknowledge what his negative emotions might mean.

It was most assuredly _not_ jealousy which had spawned his distrust. Why should it be, when Jack beamed at him every time their eyes met; when he tried to kiss him in every darkened corner; when he showed so much passion as they made love? Ianto couldn't possibly doubt Jack's feelings for him. But still... that didn't mean he had to approve of the way James undressed him with those striking eyes and stalked Jack as if he might pounce at any moment.

The exhaustive rehearsal ended on a Friday afternoon, and after an uncomfortably tearful speech from Eugene, the cast parted ways to rest for the tour to begin the next day. The opening night was to occur at the very theatre they had been practising in all week, before they took the production further out into the surrounding states to return a fortnight later. On the Friday night, Jack was bursting with nervous energy, filled with fear for performing in front of an audience despite the generally easy manner in which he'd strode through rehearsal.

"Jack, you can do this. You have a natural talent for entertaining" Ianto gently told him as he stripped Jack of his shirt and dropped it into the laundry basket.

"You think so, Ianto?" Jack asked with a hopeful smile, sighing contentedly when Ianto took his face in his hands and tried to kiss away the creases of worry.

"Absolutely. I've watched you reduce the rest of that cast to helpless giggling for the last week, and you remember how they reacted to you at the beginning" Ianto soothed, starting on Jack's belt buckle.

"I wasn't too bad, huh?" Jack murmured aloud, feeling immeasurably better from only the simplest of words in his valet's deep, titillating voice.

"No sir, not bad at all" Ianto confirmed, startling Jack when he began to kiss his way back up his legs after having dragged his trousers to the floor.

"Ianto?" Jack enquired, choking back a groan at the sight of Ianto shrugging off his own shirt, still on his knees. Ianto brushed his lips against Jack's firm abdomen, eyes shining bright and guileless.

"Sir?" he murmured.

"What are you doing down there?"

"I feel as if this is something I've not yet mastered, sir" Ianto casually said, sliding both hands to Jack's hips in a steadying grip.

"What's that, Jones?" Jack asked, surprised at the evenness of his own voice.

Ianto merely flashed him a knowing smirk and dipped his head, revelling in the hoarse gasp and the clutching nails in his shoulders as he took Jack deep into his mouth, stroking softly with lips and tender tongue. Jack rocked helplessly into that willing mouth, knowing exactly what Ianto was planning and being beyond grateful for it. This would be one of Ianto's 'practical study' evenings, in which he thoroughly wore Jack out by going over _everything_ that he had learnt under his employer's guidance until neither of them could see straight.

When he was filled with such anxious excitement, there was nothing he needed more than to have his control completely removed by somebody who understood and accepted each and every one of his desires... and as his knees threatened to buckle under the onslaught of Ianto's velveteen mouth, he was led to that snug single bed and allowed to melt into the mattress while Ianto set about giving him everything he could ever want.

* * *

"Jack?" Ianto whispered in the dark, their combined laboured breathing filling the space around them.

"Mmmhhm?" Jack hummed, not yet ready to put any space between Ianto's spine and his own chest. Their bodies touched from head to toe and he mourned the fact that they'd need to separate sooner or later.

"Are you sure it's wise for me to come along on the tour?" Ianto quietly asked, aftershocks finally dissipating and allowing his nerves to still.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, and Ianto could hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

"This isn't the wealthiest of productions, the travel is going to be difficult enough with all of the cast and crew, and I'm not essential to the ensemble in any way..."

"You're essential to _me_, Ianto" Jack murmured against his nape, arms tightening around his lover's chest. "Are you growing bored?"

Ianto wasn't sure if Jack was worried he might be bored of _him_, or bored because he had nothing to contribute towards the play. Choosing not to acknowledge the former, he lightly rubbed Jack's forearm and leaned a little heavier against him.

"Well, they already have somebody to make the coffee..." he said, smiling when Jack chuckled.

"Not as good as yours" Jack insisted, before carefully breaking the link between their bodies and tugging Ianto around to face him.

"I'd like for you to be there, Ianto" he said, his expression unusually unsure. "Call it moral support. Or perhaps I simply can't go an hour without seeing you... you're the one who's encouraged me this far, Jones. My guardian angel" he added, breaking into a grin.

"I'm sure you could get all the _support _you needed from your understudy, if required" Ianto retorted with a self-deprecating smile which forced Jack to kiss him long and deep.

"Ianto, James Harper isn't fit to shine your shoes" he said when he pulled away, enjoying the brief glaze in his valet's eyes.

"You seem to be getting along rather well" Ianto stated, ensuring it didn't sound accusatory. Nevertheless, a fine line appeared between Jack's eyebrows, marring his expression.

"He's a nice guy, that's all" he shrugged. "I still don't understand why nobody else likes him, but I'm happy to milk his help for as long as I can. After that, we're not likely to ever see him again."

Ianto nodded absently, his expression unreadable. Jack frowned at him for a moment, before his smile turned impish and he grabbed Ianto, pulling him between his thighs and relishing the weight of the startled younger man.

"Why don't you show me who I belong to?" Jack purred, arching his spine with a rakish wiggle of his eyebrows. Ianto wanted to argue that such a thing wasn't necessary because he didn't doubt his place in Jack's affections, but when his hips slotted so perfectly against Jack's, it was difficult to object.

"I don't own you, Jack" he replied, even as his blood pumped harder in anticipation and Jack's hands brushed up and down his spine.

"Yes you do" Jack whispered back, teasing Ianto's lips apart with his tongue and not breaking the kiss until they each saw swirling colours behind their eyelids.

* * *

By lunch time the next day, Jack was bouncing from the walls with nerves while Ianto packed their suitcases and smiled indulgently whenever his employer began a meaningless conversation to fill the silence. Ignoring Jack's protestations, Ianto replaced the day's coffee with tea in an attempt to keep him from physically bursting apart, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. Jack was more restless than he'd ever seen, and it only increased when they reached the theatre for the final rehearsal.

As the evening approached, Ianto had to admit that Jack did look terribly dashing in his costume, his hair slicked back as it was when he wore his RAF uniform and even the false moustache adding a hint of something debonair.

"This thing itches like hell" Jack grumbled, swatting pointlessly at his upper lip as the cast congregated behind the curtain. The low buzz of a crowd could be heard from the other side; a very positive sign, Ianto reminded Jack as the older man's eyes bulged with concern.

"I never thought to see you so disinclined to make a public spectacle of yourself, sir" Ianto teased, superfluously adjusting Jack's tie.

"No, well, nobody has ever _paid_ to see me make a spectacle of myself, Jones" Jack replied, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I've never had anybody depending on me to make sure the spectacle is perfect."

"It will be, sir" Ianto assured him, tucking his hands behind his own back and straightening his shoulders, looking the perfect manservant. Jack took a long, dark look at him and growled quietly in the back of his throat.

"Why is it that when you're at your most proper, I want to drag you to bed with my teeth all the more, Mr Jones?" he muttered, gratified to see surprise and amusement in Ianto's eyes, though his expression remained impassive.

"For the same reason that you spent our first few weeks together attempting to shock me with stories of your exploits, I imagine, sir" he replied, before a chorus girl stumbled into them and broke through the heat that had been swiftly collecting between the two men, threatening to spill over.

"There is a name for that kind of rebellious mental attitude, sir" Ianto continued, and Jack cocked his head, almost unheeding of the lowering lights before them.

"And what's that, Jones?"

"Perversity, sir."

"Alright kids, it's time!" Eugene called as the introductory music from the instrument pit began to swell, and Jack took a last, narrow-eyed look at his valet.

"I'll show _you_ perversity" he whispered, hoping that his teasing tone told Ianto how grateful he was for the distraction, as he was ushered onto the stage.

"Promises, promises, sir" Ianto murmured to himself, unable to stop himself from smiling broadly as the lights came back up and the show began.

Jack was fantastic, making the modest but eager crowd laugh at every turn and singing his heart out, once his slight initial reticence dissolved. Ianto was beginning to think that perhaps Jack truly _was_ made for this, that perhaps performing was the very calling he'd been waiting for.

"Marvellous, isn't he?" a voice behind him purred, a little too close for comfort. Ianto didn't need to turn around to know exactly to whom it belonged, despite the fact that it had never been directed specifically at him before now.

"Mr Harper" he greeted in a low tone, choosing to battle against his manners in favour of continuing to watch the show.

"You're very fortunate to be able to spend so much time with him" James pressed on, his body heat making Ianto yearn to shift away.

"I am indeed, sir. Mr Harkness is a good man. I couldn't possibly ask for a finer employer."

James leaned even further towards him until his chin almost rested on Ianto's shoulder, at which point the Welshman felt compelled to sidestep his close proximity and fix him with a steady gaze, squaring his shoulders.

"Mr Harper, if you desire a clear vantage point, feel free to take my place" he offered, feeling that swell of dislike yet again when James' mouth twisted into an unattractive smirk.

"He's more than that to you though, isn't he Mr Jones?" James said, ignoring Ianto's previous statement.

Ianto's expression remained stoic, though he longed to raise a lethal eyebrow in the face of that crass leer.

"He is a friend too, sir, the best a man could have" he replied truthfully.

"Yes, I can tell exactly how... _friendly _you are" James said, his eyes drifting to the handsome lead on the stage before slithering back to Ianto. "But do you really think it's appropriate to be so open about your familiarity?"

Ianto felt the muscles in his shoulders rise in defence, but he refused to lower himself to the level of James' implications.

"If I may say sir, you know nothing of my relationship with Mr Harkness, nor is it any of your concern" he stated in the most steady, unswerving voice he could manage. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr Harper..."

Ianto spun on his heel and strode back through the darkness that filled the space behind the stage, uncaring of where he was going and knowing only that he didn't want to be around James Harper any longer. He thought he just about heard an amused murmur of "_we'll see_" from behind him, but it didn't deter his escape.

Ianto felt a fresh sense of unease roll through his stomach as he stepped into the deserted street behind the theatre, pulling cool air into his lungs. His dislike of James had increased tenfold with only a few words and he despised the fact that the man could affect him so. It was horribly frustrating that Ianto still could not fathom a motive for the way James presented himself, and he realised that all he could do was continue to watch him and look for... well, that was the very problem. He had no idea.

Gathering his wits, Ianto stepped back into the building and quietly found a clear spot on the opposite side of the stage to where he had been. All other thoughts fled his mind as his gaze rested on Jack once more and he began to relax, chuckling along with the jokes he'd heard a hundred times during the previous week.

When his eyes roved towards the dancers, Ianto was once again jarred from his reverie by the sight of James partially obscured by a black curtain, staring directly at him. As their eyes met, James smiled and shook his head, shadows illuminating his cheekbones in an ugly parody of his stunning bone structure. Ianto broke the connection with a slight inward squirm, and resolved to discover what on earth that man was up to – and _why_.

Until then, he would have to be particularly vigilant in his care of the wonderful, beautiful, but ultimately foolish man he called his master and lover.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Afternoon, all! The tour rolls on this week, and our heroes are confused. Nothing ever changes.

More filler, I fear, but my lovely regulars seem to enjoy that regardless. As always, reviews are my bread and butter. I just broke 350! Madness! You lovely mental people.

* * *

The next day, Eugene Jones' performance troupe was on the road.

After the initial performance, which was received well by a pleasantly surprised and appreciative audience, Jack was far more relaxed about having the weight of playing the leading male on his shoulders. The previous evening had him coming off the stage shimmering with sweat and high as a kite, and Ianto dutifully drove him back to the flat whilst feeding Jack's excitable ego with his honest praise. Only the presence of the lift attendant stopped Jack from pinning Ianto against the wall and having his way with him, but that was exactly what he had done as soon as their front door was closed, and Ianto had to concede that allowing sex to stray into his working areas (such as the hallway floor) really wasn't as worrisome as he'd imagined.

For a few hours, Ianto forgot all about James Harper and his cryptic taunts, but here they were on a train towards Massachusetts with said same man seated opposite Jack and himself, a saccharine smile fixed tightly to his face as Ianto's employer educated him about Wales.

"So Wales is separate to England?" James asked, and Ianto didn't bother to fight against the urge to roll his eyes.

"Yep. Well, it's _attached_, but it's a different country."

"Huh. And Jones is from there?"

"Yes I am, Mr Harper" Ianto interrupted, in a tone that said _'and I'm sitting right here...'._

"Just one of the many reasons I love the place" Jack grinned, oblivious to the tension surrounding him and shooting Ianto a wink.

"It's an interesting accent" James said blandly.

"It's hot" Jack replied, his smile growing lascivious. "You should visit some time!"

"I'm certain Mr Harper is quite settled in the Americas" Ianto said, "so many acting roles to understudy..."

He trailed off with a sickeningly polite smile, gratified to see James' eye twitch slightly.

"I'm going to the bathroom" James declared, not taking his eyes off Jack as he slid from his seat and disappeared down the carriage.

"Toilet" Ianto muttered.

"Hmm?" Jack leaned closer, his natural scent filtering into Ianto's mind.

"_Toilet_. How can it be a bathroom without a bath in it? It's a toilet. Sir." Ianto said, only just catching his sense of propriety as he mumbled to himself.

Jack chuckled, squeezing Ianto's knee beneath the little fold-down table.

"My gorgeous pedant" he whispered, glancing around at the scattering of his sleeping, dozing, talking and reading colleagues before pecking Ianto on the cheek.

"Sir..." Ianto quietly admonished without much feeling, silently cursing as he felt the tips of his ears glow warm.

"Can't help it, Jones... you're too delicious." Jack beamed, his expression completely bereft of apology.

_He always knows how to distract me _Ianto thought with a little shake of his head, accepting now that he couldn't avoid it, despite the professional in him stamping its feet with annoyance that he could never keep an entirely clear mind around Jack. When it seemed that James wasn't planning to resume his place, Ianto sank further into his chair and simply admired the view... which was not entirely limited to the outside landscape.

* * *

With the passing of each action-packed day, Ianto found himself with less and less to do. The wary rejections of the crew every time he offered his help continued to make him feel like a spare part on the production, not even so much in the background as simply in the way. The cast barely acknowledged him, which was no surprise, except for Jack who spent any spare moment he could find talking and walking with his valet. But they were only moments in between travelling, rehearsals, having to sleep in separate rooms in the various small, sticky hotels, and the increasing number of 'one-to-ones' with James Harper.

On the fourth performance day, by which time Ianto was beginning to feel the strain of being away from Cardiff once more as he had precious little else to focus on, he stepped into the rehearsal room of the latest little theatre to find the two constant objects of his thoughts pressed closely together and talking intimately. Rage flared in his mind at the sight of James' hands on Jack's hips from behind, moving with him as they perfected the semi-dance steps of one of the musical numbers, James murmuring instructions into Jack's ear. James caught Ianto's eye and glared at him, before Jack became aware of his presence.

"Jones!" Jack cried, beaming with glee although he didn't move from James' touch.

"Sir" Ianto responded, his face as placid as he could make it. "I came to see if you wished for a light lunch before you continued with your... practice."

"I'm not that hungry actually, Jones" Jack said, finally stepping away from James' hands and towards his valet.

"_You_, sir?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Hey, I can cope without food!" Jack defended himself with a smirk. "Food comes second to coffee... and sex."

"Your priorities remain impeccably organised, sir" Ianto replied, aware of James watching and listening.

"You know it, Jones" Jack winked. "I'm really focussed on this scene at the moment, and James is helping me out, but no doubt I'll be ravenous soon enough. Meet me down at the stage door in an hour?"

Jack pressed his palms together in the praying motion he used when begging for caffeine, and Ianto could only nod his acquiescence.

"Of course, sir. An hour" he replied, swiftly turning on his heel and leaving the scene with an unpleasant feeling rising from his belly. If Jack was acting differently, Ianto might be able to do something about the strange scenario... but he was the same; he seemed completely oblivious, and clearly didn't think it completely inappropriate for James' crotch to be practically grinding against his backside.

_Bloody actors_ he thought, his mood continuing to darken.

* * *

By the time final rehearsal had moved onto the stage, Ianto felt just a little better. Jack had arrived on time for a change, and while Ianto had been entirely prepared to create something to eat back at the hotel, Jack dragged him instead to an eatery with outdoor seating and hearty portions. Their knees touched beneath the table and a selfish part of Ianto's psyche basked in the fact that he was Jack's sole focus once more. Jack did talk mainly about the production... and about James Harper... but he also spoke of missing being alone with Ianto and finding him something to do so that he might feel less out of the loop.

Ianto inwardly cursed himself for being obvious for once in his life.

"It isn't necessary, sir" he said, taking a sip of the first cup of decent coffee he'd had in several days.

"Jones, you're a hundred times more intelligent than anybody in that theatre, and you're having to just stand about like sexy furniture" Jack replied in all seriousness, making Ianto smirk despite himself.

"Intelligence has little to do with the entertainment industry, sir" he replied, and Jack threw his head back with a raucous laugh.

"Too true, Jones!" he chuckled."I'm clearly at home with my own kind."

Ianto frowned at him, only partially in jest. "You _are_ intelligent, sir" he argued, and Jack laughed again.

"It's nice that somebody thinks so, Jones" he winked, "I appreciate it."

Back at the theatre, Ianto sank into a seat near to Eugene (but not close enough for small talk to be a social necessity) and watched the rehearsals play out. Jack was playfully spinning his female co-star across the boards as they sang together in perfect harmony, and Ianto had to admire the way his employer's surprisingly graceful body moved.

"It gets better every day" he heard Eugene state in awe, and turned his head to smile at the other man in agreement just as a sequence of sickening thuds and gasping rang out ahead of them

"Shit!" Eugene yelped, jumping to his feet, closely followed by Ianto. The director shooed his way through the suddenly crowded and panicked cast to find the prone body of his leading lady next to a dented overhead light, the glass shattered.

"Lucia, can you hear me?" he asked in a high pitched voice, gingerly tilting her head to examine the wound in the side of her head. The young woman groaned and two of the male singers were immediately ordered to help her up. Ianto stood stunned, watching as the heavily concussed woman was taken away with blood matting her thick black hair, and Eugene ran to the nearest telephone to contact a doctor.

His eyes flicked from the broken light (which must have only clipped Lucia, otherwise it would have caved in her entire skull, he realised with a shudder) and up to the tangle of wires and poles which obscured the ceiling above. He supposed it was an easy mistake... a screw not quite secured, a loose nut or bolt... but shouldn't they have been checked _very_ thoroughly?

His eyeline finally fell to Jack, still standing stock still as his co-stars drifted away from the smear of blood, whispering and sniffling. He was pale and wide-eyed, and Ianto knew immediately that Jack had realised it could have just as easily have been him. Lucia had been on a spin away from him as it hit, but if he had been just a foot further to the left... it would have been a direct hit.

Bile rose in Ianto's throat and he stepped forward, laying a hand on Jack's shoulder when all he wanted was to hold him tightly against his chest.

"Sir?" he said softly, letting out a breath of relief when Jack's eyes focussed again and met his.

"Poor Lucia" Jack finally murmured.

"Indeed, sir. Perhaps... a terrible cup of coffee would calm you a little?" Ianto offered, gently squeezing the tense muscles beneath Jack's skin. Jack replied with a grateful smile, acknowledging that Ianto understood and thankful that he said nothing.

Eugene returned then, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, and pointed at Lucia's panicked understudy.

"Melissa, you're up tonight. Lucia can't perform again for at least two days" he sighed, stopping dead in front of the bloodied patch and yelling at nobody in particular "this mess needs cleaning up, and somebody check all that rigging. We need a new spotlight before tonight, and a goddamn _secure_ performance space!"

* * *

After Lucia's accident, the rest of rehearsal was understandably tense. Melissa hadn't worked much with Jack and her movements were a great deal more nervous and stilted than the leading lady's, but James (_of course it was James_) valiantly stepped in to help them both. At the end of the night, the majority of the cast and their leader decided that what they needed was a few calming drinks... all except Jack, who took Ianto back to the latest low-quality hotel and while he was a great deal calmer than he had been and riding high off another great show, he clearly felt the need for something life-affirming – and Ianto was happy to oblige.

Even when his days were dull and long and he was treated as a minor nuisance, there was always _this_, Ianto decided; the tight grip of Jack's quivering body and their combined panting breaths overriding all other thoughts. His world narrowed to the one shabby room and the way Jack writhed beneath him, grinding into the mattress and gnawing his pillow with frustration as Ianto drew out the pleasure. He trailed his wandering lips up and down Jack's spine and over his nape until his lover's over-sensitised flesh forced him to flinch away, but Ianto continued to bombard him with sensation until his world narrowed further to just a pinprick, and Jack's body tensed as taut as a bowstring in their entwined moments of bliss.

"You are getting _far_ too good at that, Ianto Jones" Jack murmured once he was fully conscious again, pulling his valet tighter into his embrace.

"I learnt from the best" Ianto replied, tasting the salt on Jack's throat as he kissed the tanned column lightly.

"Then I was clearly wrong about you and you must have bedded down with men before, because I did _not_ teach you to make me nearly pass out before I've even come" Jack chuckled. Ianto raised his head to give Jack a withering look, but it quickly morphed into something more fond. Something that made the older man's breath catch in his throat.

"It's not _men_" Ianto explained, running his fingertips down the flat chest before him, "it's just you."

Jack had never really known where Ianto's true inclinations lay, and he didn't waste too much time worrying about it, but knowing that he was truly the only man Ianto was drawn to...

"Something in your eyes, sir?" Ianto smirked as Jack blinked hard a few times.

"Apparently" Jack mumbled, swiping at them roughly with his knuckles.

"I trust you will not be besmirching my reputation again?"

Jack looked questioningly at Ianto, who rolled his eyes.

"With regards to intimacy with other men, Jack."

"Oh! Oh... yes. Sorry" Jack grinned. He opened his mouth to perhaps ask about women – specifically his ex-fiancée – but decided at the last moment that he wasn't worth seeing even a modicum of grief on Ianto's face for a subject that could wait.

"Either way, you've a great natural talent, Jones" he said instead, squeezing Ianto's backside beneath the covers.

Regrettably, Jack was soon forced to let go of his valet again and allow him to return to his own room – which he hated for many reasons, but one of them was that it allowed Jack time to think. With Ianto close, he barely had the cognitive capacity to ponder _too _hard, but on his own his mind taunted and prodded and kept sleep at arm's length.

Jack clung extra hard to his time with Ianto lately because he felt lost and vulnerable to making unwise decisions otherwise, the way he used to feel _all_ the time (which of course he didn't realise until Ianto entered his life). For the first time since the young man stepped over his threshold, Jack was genuinely attracted to another man. Rehearsal demanded his time and much of that time was spent with James... those smouldering green eyes burning with attraction which Jack was struggling to ignore.

If he wasn't so damn sweet and good-looking, perhaps Jack could have passed it off as simply enjoying the ego-trip provided by some very blatant attention, but he was certainly affected by James. It was purely a physical reaction – every time he saw Ianto, he knew where his heart lay – but Jack was a physical man, and while Ianto maintained at least a foot or two of space between them by day, James touched him at every possible opportunity... and Jack's flesh lapped it up.

He felt guilty, _so guilty_ for it, for being so aware of the appeal of another man with Ianto close by (which was far worse than it being behind his back), but his only respite was that his feelings for his valet hadn't diminished at all in the face of an outside interest. Jack was the first to admit that he had been fickle with his affections in the past, but he adored Ianto unequivocally and what was more, the emotion grew daily. However, being of greedy Harkness stock, his body wanted him to have his cake and eat _another_ damn cake on the side.

Reminding himself of that personal promise to not ever cause Ianto pain again, Jack rolled over and willed sleep to take him. Soon enough he'd never see James again, and he'd forget about him, because it would just be Jones and Harkness. Always. Of that, Jack was certain.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

Happy Sunday, everybody! I was certain I wouldn't get this out on time; I've been unwell and real life is being infuriatingly difficult of late, but I had a burst of creativity this morning and managed to churn out a little treat for you. As it's the thirtieth chapter, which feels reasonably momentous, the second half of this chapter is extremely fluffy and, well, hopefully I do the moment justice for you all.

I have to say at this point that the story is taking an unexpected turn. The reader reactions to the last few chapters, especially to James Harper, are causing it to write itself and I've had to accept that the entire reason for getting Jack on tour is no longer going to work. James wasn't meant to be such a prevalent figure and this isn't the direction I had planned, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. All it means is I have to rethink a few bits and pieces, but I apologise if you're getting bored of James and the tour now. It's going on much longer than it was meant to, but I am TRYING to move it along. Thank you for sticking with me, gang.

A special thank you to the new reviewers who have appeared from the woodwork in order to tell me about the horrific things they'd do to James Harper if they got their hands on him, and to the anons I can't reply to. On with the show!

* * *

If only Jack had realised just how exhausting theatre could be.

Two days after Lucia's accident, the constant buzz of putting on a show had _finally_ begun to wane, and he was immeasurably grateful for the upcoming Sunday of freedom. The leading lady was back on the stage with a few stitches in her scalp, and the troupe had travelled further towards the coast, where the audiences appeared to be more raucous and certainly greater in number.

Final rehearsal saw Jack once more in his place, running through the closing act in full costume with a smattering of the props already on the stage. Ianto watched from the stalls once more, growing rather tired of the material but not of Jack's unerringly eager performance. In his mid-speech rapture, a dramatic swing of Jack's arm sent one of the show pieces, a tall wine bottle, flying and it hit the floor with a suspiciously heavy crack.

Almost everybody gasped when it broke apart, and an uneasy silence fell. Ianto frowned and rose to his feet, peering at the remains.

"What the... this is real glass!" one of the showgirls declared, confirming everybody's sudden suspicions as she prodded a shard with her toe.

"It can't be!" Eugene said, springing from his seat and rushing to the scene. "It's the bottle that Lucia smashes over Jack's head; it's sugarglass!"

"Look how thick it is" Ianto interrupted, gingerly picking up a piece and holding it up to the light. "This _is_ real glass. Mr Jones, why on _earth_ would there be a real glass bottle on the stage? Mr Harkness could have been seriously injured."

Jack caught his valet's eye and saw the deep concern which his steady voice belied. He responded with a shaky smile and squirmed at the thought of receiving even more stitches beneath his hair than poor Lucia had.

An overly-panicked Eugene started flitting about immediately, checking the other props and shouting at the stage hands. Glad of his invisibility for the moment, Ianto slid away from the crowd and from Jack and worked his way behind the stage to the props store, where everything was kept in the same order every night, wherever the theatre. Ianto approved of the organisation within the production, but as he switched on the light in the musky-smelling glorified cupboard, it was clearly not as it should have been.

The bottles were made daily, as sugarglass softens and disintegrates within hours or being created (another thing Ianto approved of was Eugene's dedication to ensuring such things were done right, done well, and done on site – perhaps it was a Jones thing), and on a naked shelf which would have previously been surrounded by props that were already on the stage, lay a single long-necked vessel. It was slightly off-clear and riddled with tiny imperfections, as the sugarglass always was, and sitting innocently amidst the dust.

It was newly-made, it was ready, but it was here. Ianto picked it up and rolled it between his hands, trying to work out why it had been left and a real bottle used. The most sensible explanation was that the prop team was behind schedule in creating the new bottle and offered up a replacement just for the final rehearsal, or even by accident, placing this one on the shelf when they were finished. Except it didn't quite fit... why wouldn't they have told anybody, especially not Eugene? Why would anybody take that risk?

Ianto was struck again by the image of an unconscious Jack with a bloody scalp (twice in a week was very unsettling) and grasped the faux glass a little tighter. Worryingly certain that something was amiss, he took the bottle back to the stage and placed it on the table, the cast having once again fallen into the reaction of spreading out into their cliques and chattering about the new events. Jack was with Eugene, who appeared to be apologising profusely, when Ianto felt a familiar and unwanted presence at his shoulder.

"Oh, you found the sugar dupliate, I see" James murmured, leaning to the side to stroke his fingers down the bottle's neck instead of stepping further away. "I can't help but wonder how you knew where to find it, Mr Jones."

Ianto immediately grew tense with that sickly, uncomfortable feeling James always inspired within him and tilted his head to reply, refusing to turn.

"I do not appreciate the insinuation, Mr Harper" he replied, cold and stoic. "It was in the prop room, of course."

"Of course" James replied, "and why exactly are you not stalking your master to kiss better his potential wounds?"

"I could ask you the same question" Ianto replied in little more than a hiss, silently kicking himself as soon as the words were past his lips. How he loathed the way that James loosened his control so effortlessly, and caused fury to well up from the little box of repressed emotions in Ianto's tightly-guarded mind.

To his immense annoyance, James laughed softly and moved so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder, both gazing unseeingly across the chaotic stage.

"Do you know what the rest of them say about you? '_That Mr Jones, he's a spare tyre... why is he here? Jack can cope fine without the penguin suit hovering about, slowing us down, getting in the way_...'"

Ianto bristled, but he knew all of that already. He knew how they felt about his presence and it was slowly becoming more prevalent in his mind.

"If you can't even be there for Jack, then what good are you?" James continued, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You're nothing more than an overblown butler."

"I'm much more than that" Ianto replied, his voice equally low and edged with a huskiness born of anger. "Mr Harkness needs me."

"In your dreams, maybe" James muttered, watching as a sheepish-looking Jack approached them. "In your pathetic little dreams where you're more than just something pretty in a good suit."

Ianto didn't have time to retort before James flung himself at Jack, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man's shoulders. Jack looked pleasingly startled by the sudden contact and stared wide-eyed at Ianto as he awkwardly patted James' back.

"Jack, you must be completely shaken, are you alright?" his understudy asked, the gruff cruelty he had used with Ianto replaced by a tone far more simperingly sycophantic.

"Errr, yeah James, I'm fine" Jack laughed nervously and released his loose hold, but James clung a little longer before pulling away, brow knotted and wide eyes shimmering with worry.

"Let's get you a coffee" he said, but Jack held up a hand to stop James from reaching for his forearm.

"No thanks, I'm okay. I'd just like to speak to Jones" he said, and Ianto allowed himself to smile through the discontent floating around in his mind.

James faltered and glanced between the two of them before brushing his knuckles against Jack's hand in a way he clearly felt was subtle, and walking away.

"_Are_ you alright, sir?" Ianto asked quietly, noting that Jack had relaxed even in the few seconds since James' departure.

"Yeah, Jones, I'm fine" Jack replied. "Hell of a thing to get wrong, though..."

"Yes, sir. I'm sure it was simply human error."

"Where was the other bottle?"

"In the prop room sir, on its own. I suppose they were a late in making it and the real glass was brought through by mistake" Ianto said, although certain that it wasn't the case.

"You look a little shaken yourself, Jones. Worried about me?" Jack said, a smug smile lighting up his face.

Ianto privately basked in the glow of it, before replying "always, sir. I can never predict what trouble you might get yourself into next."

"Cheeky, Jones, very cheeky" Jack said with a wink. "What were you and James looking so chummy about?"

_Chummy_?_ How could mutual loathing look chummy...? _

"Simply discussing the incident, sir."

"You weren't giving him an unabridged history of the bottle were you, Jones?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow, attempting to feel affronted but failing in the face of Jack's teasing smirk.

"You think me _that_ dull, sir?"

"You know _I _could happily listen to an unabridged history of the bottle, if you were the one doing the talking. Those beautiful Welsh vowels do wicked things to me, Jones..."

Ianto failed to stop a huff of laughter escaping his lips, gazing at his decidedly self-satisfied employer for a long, penetrative moment until the other man's mouth fell open in desire and invitation, and the air between them crackled.

"Come on guys, everything is fine here, simple mistake on the crew's part. I can't get anybody to admit to doing anything quite so dumb, but we can't afford to let anybody go either so let's just get on with it" Eugene declared, mopping his brow with a handkerchief as he strode across the stage, attempting to herd together his actors.

Jack took a moment to react, his eyeline flicking down to Ianto's lips briefly before making its way slowly back up.

"Later, Jones" he muttered in a low voice, sending involuntary shivers up Ianto's spine.

"Yes, sir" he purred in reply, watching Jack subtly adjust the front of his loose-fitting costume trousers before walking away. The deep warmth spreading through him which Jack's cerulean stare induced overwhelmed any acidic words James Harper could have spouted at him. Ianto knew his employer, _really_ knew him, and those looks, those words, those _touches_ couldn't be falsified. James didn't know them, and Ianto refused to be intimidated by his empty insults.

* * *

The weekend arrived without further incident, and the relief Ianto felt in knowing he would have the chance to be alone with Jack for more than a couple of hours was almost tangible. The feeling of exclusion was easy enough to repress, but the anxiety regarding Jack's safety and the close proximity of the increasingly puzzling James Harper were much more powerful. Whether the two were linked or not, both were cause for concern. As for the on-set accidents... well, he supposed they could be just that, and he couldn't yet prove otherwise... yet something told him to doubt it.

Post-performance on Saturday night, Ianto took Jack to a different hotel to the one the cast and crew were staying in ("just for tonight, sir... having to suffer low-quality accommodation will be good for you"), simply so that they could spend the entire night in the same bed. He booked adjoining rooms anyway, of always, and barely had time to hang up the clothing they would need for the following day before Jack had hooked his fingers through Ianto's belt loops and wrestled him into bed.

Filled with an emotion Ianto had to grudgingly admit might have been something close to possessiveness, he and Jack discovered a previously-unknown passion for marking and being marked. Jack revelled unashamedly in the pinch of teeth against his over-sensitised skin and this new facet of Ianto's deep sense of animalism, whilst Ianto found himself drunk on fresh ways to make Jack gasp and squirm.

Even in the harsh light of morning, Ianto couldn't feel guilt for those bruises he had caused to litter Jack's beyond-perfect body. It was more than enough excuse for him to kiss all of them lightly, more for entirely plausible healing purposes than in apology, and for the first time, he didn't get up before Jack to make him a coffee and prepare his breakfast. Instead, he woke his employer in the most pleasurable way he could think of before allowing Jack to just hold him, seeing in his eyes how grateful he was to float back into consciousness with Ianto still in his bed.

Through their leisurely day off, back inside the little Jack-and-Ianto bubble they had become accustomed to, Ianto had to fight against the knowledge that he was allowing his professional persona to slip too far. It was niggling at his mind more and more; he was too relaxed around Jack, not just during his days off in which he was allowed to be, but when he should have been vigilant and in control. Perhaps if he was more focussed, he would have been able to decipher the mystery of Jack's understudy _days_ ago... and it was easier to blame any shortcomings on something else rather than admit he just didn't understand the man.

Then there were the practicalities, those very old concerns he felt back when they were only close friends. The knowledge that Jack would be expected to marry sooner rather than later, thus undoubtedly being obligated to give up his valet... and even if Jack kept him in the marital household somehow, Ianto would _not _be anybody's dirty secret. Although... he supposed he was no more than that already. The realisation was a harsh one.

Jack might not have been particularly intuitive or observant on the whole, but one thing he did pride himself on was being a reasonably good judge of his valet's emotions; _vast_ pride, considering Ianto had spent so many years sculpting himself into a closed book. So when he caught the young man staring blankly out of the bathroom window, paused mid-stir with a dish of shaving foam and a badger brush in hand, Jack knew he was troubled.

"Ianto?" he prompted, barely a split second passing before his valet resumed his vigorous stirring.

"Almost ready, sir" Ianto replied, slowing his movements to a stop when Jack's hand wrapped loosely around his wrist.

"It's a Sunday, you don't have to call me that" Jack replied, softly kissing the back of Ianto's neck.

"I thought you liked it" came the dry retort, and Jack felt the underlying deflection in his voice. He took the props from Ianto's hands so that there was nothing between them, and turned the young man around to face him. His face was impassive but his eyes showed apprehension, and Jack didn't like it.

"Do you want me to give up the play?" he asked softly. Ianto blinked hard a few times, confusion overriding anything else in his eyes before his opened his mouth.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well... we haven't had much time together for over a week now, and... well, _I'm_ feeling the strain. I kind've like to think you are too" Jack smiled sheepishly. "You don't seem very happy, Ianto."

Ianto's shoulders slumped and his façade cracked, an affectionate smile seeping through.

"Yes Jack, I feel it too, but you shouldn't give up the play. You come alive on that stage. Watching you is worth..." he cut off the end of that sentence, but Jack, predictably, wasn't going to allow him to stop now that he'd opened up.

"Worth what, Ianto?" he asked, running his thumbs in firm circles over Ianto's shoulders.

"Worth being invisible again" Ianto said, his smile turning self-deprecating.

"You're not invisible" Jack said, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Not to me. Never to me. Has anybody been rude to you? Because I've got enough pull with Eugene to get their asses hauled out of the show if they have..."

Ianto chuckled, secretly relishing the pleasure of having somebody willing to fight his corner.

"No, of course not" he lied, unsure why. Eugene had stated right from the start that if James made a false move, he'd have a legitimate reason to kick him out... but Ianto was a man who fought his own battles. The thought of whining to Jack and then having Jack recount the poisonous, but ultimately harmless things James had said made him squirm internally. It wasn't an option.

"Jack, it... it's fine. We spent a great deal of time in close proximity with only each other before this. It's good for you to socialise."

"I don't care about that lot" Jack shrugged, "these theatre types are so stuck up. I thought _I_ was shallow and vain..."

Ianto laughed softly again and shook his head before Jack continued.

"Soon enough it'll be just you and me again" he whispered, "and that's all I want."

Ianto's smile faltered and Jack thought he understood the issue at last, his stomach clenching in anticipation of what could be a very pleasant or a very difficult conversation.

"We've never really talked about... _us_... have we?" he said quietly, nerves attacking his stomach as Ianto's soft blue eyes flickered with apprehension.

"No, I suppose not" he replied. "But... I think we both know it will never be _just_ me and you."

The cold reality stung like a hard slap to the face, and while Jack's natural reaction was to step away and hide from the solemnity in Ianto's face, he maintained his hold on him instead, using him as an anchor.

"It could be" he said, knowing how feeble it sounded. He was the only Harkness child, and his singular role in life was always to marry well and spawn more to take his name. He almost rolled his eyes at the thought; it was as if it was the dark ages, not the 1930's. His world was as modern and forward-thinking as it was likely to get, he thought – his acquaintances didn't go to church, they drank, they smoked, they had flings and they defied their parents at every opportunity. But they were all of them the privileged classes, and as such would be forced to settle down eventually. Some of them were already doing so... time was running out. And Jack was more repelled than ever by the thought of being tied down to some mousey female for the rest of his life.

"Your Aunt Alice will have you married soon enough, whether you like it or not" Ianto said with a sad smile. "At which point, my services will be superfluous."

"No" Jack said, grabbing Ianto's hand. "Whatever happens, I'm keeping you at my side."

Ianto gave him a disbelieving glare, sighing heavily. "And then what? You sneak me into your marital bed every so often to prove how much you... to prove you still want me, and I have to live for those days while I watch your family grow?"

Ianto bit down hard on his tongue when his words dried up, internally racked with horror that he'd allowed so much to slip, sounding so bitter and ungrateful. Jack was staring at him with wide eyes, and the hurt in them made Ianto physically wince.

"Forgive me Jack, that was... I'm sorry."

"No, _I_ am" Jack said dully. "For dragging you into this. I should have given you a choice when I first felt attracted to you... to let you go or to stay with me. But I wanted it too much, and... well, the other shoe has finally dropped for you, and now you know what it is to be in a doomed relationship."

Ianto swallowed hard and squeezed the hand wrapped around his.

"You've been in this position before" he said, and Jack nodded.

"Not like this though" he added. "Not... with anybody I couldn't live without."

His eyes glimmered with everything he couldn't say and Ianto couldn't fight the urge to pull Jack tightly against his chest, wrapping his arms around him as if trying to protect him from everything... despite knowing that he was the one causing him harm. Of all of the concerns Ianto had about his relationship with Jack, the fact that he was a man was the least of them. He failed to see why physical gender should be a factor in love if the pull was there, and every inch of him felt Jack's pull. The issue was with the world, and he could have been Jack's secret if it was just the two of them, forever... but he was quite sure that it would never be like that. The phrase _star-crossed lovers_ came to mind.

Jack clung unashamedly to his valet, not wanting to face even the thought of the day that Ianto would leave him. The logical part of his mind knew that it would happen... but a larger part labelled 'mindless optimism' refused to imagine a life without the young man. Even if (heaven forfend) they were forced to stop being lovers... he had to have Ianto in his life. He _had_ to.

"For as long as you want me, I'll be there" he whispered into Ianto's ear, voice hoarse as he forced sound past the tightness in his throat. "Whatever happens. I just... I can't imagine being without you. We'll work it out... as long as you still feel the same."

"Jack, I can't even remember what it felt like to not be in love with you" Ianto said with a hint of admonishment, deciding at the last second to put himself on the line as Jack had been so open with him, and finding it astoundingly easy to say the words.

Jack let out a breathy laugh of relief and hugged a little tighter, almost squeezing the air out of his young lover.

"Those must have been dark times for you" he said, feeling rather than hearing Ianto's rumbling chuckle.

"Egotist."

"Tease."

"Git."

"Hey!"

"Well, what sort of person says that after a declaration of love?" Ianto tutted, gently prising himself from Jack's embrace and putting a few inches of space between them.

"Somebody who thoroughly reciprocates but knows that however he says it, it'll sound weak in comparison to how he feels?" Jack offered, his smile uncharacteristically soft and shy. Ianto laughed again, the weight in his chest lifting despite a complete lack of real resolution to his worries, and he kissed his lover deep and slow before whispering against his lips, "perhaps you could _show_ me instead... _sir_?"

The tour, the accidents, James, their future – they could wait. Ianto realised that life with Jack was about _now_, and that was enough. For now he had that bubble, that sense of togetherness and safety and being completely strong which Jack never failed to inspire. Knowing that fleetingly was better than never feeling it at all.

They would think about tomorrow, tomorrow.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

I'M SORRY.

I'm a whole week late... and trust me, I feel awful about it. Life has been so hectic, stressful and plagued with illness this past fortnight, then when I eventually _did_ get time to sit down with the laptop, my muse completely deserted me. I really am very sorry, and I hope you accept this extra-long, slightly early chapter as a decent apology. Normal service should resume after this.

Some of you may have noticed that I did manage to upload a short one-shot the other week called Death Is Now An Option. I've labelled it as an MD fic (which is probably why it's being ignored) but it's not really; it's an angsty piece of reflection from Jack's POV, looking back at the blood on his hands and wondering whether he has the right to end it now he's mortal. To be honest, it was partially an excuse to think fondly on some of our old fictional friends and pick holes in the piss-poor characterisations of Jack's new team-mates... as well as a good chance to put into writing a bit of the pain in Jack's headspace. I find in most canon he's written too light-heartedly, whereas I'm realistic (AKA cruel) and love to scribble about his suffering. But anyway, if you want to read and review that one too, I'd be grateful for the opinions.

Right, well, pip-pip and all that. I've got a few old reviews and PM's to reply to which arrived while I was not quite there - you know who you are. Until then, enjoy!

* * *

The day – and glorious night – of freedom ended far too early for Ianto and Jack but, if pressed, they would have stated that the time together had been very productive, enjoyable and creative. Jack had taken great glee in the fact that Ianto described his physical proof of loving him as "_innovative_", and secretly vowed to push that description a little further whenever possible. With their feelings finally given a voice, if somewhat casually and not a bit like the dramatic, tearful declarations which so often adorned the silver screen, their time alone felt all at once relaxed and increasingly intense.

Come morning, Ianto was once again the faithful valet standing at the foot of Jack's bed, a vision in charcoal and living evidence that Jack was, in fact, unquestioningly loved. He lay on his back admiring the young man through his eyelashes for a long while until Ianto finally shifted and cleared his throat, inclining his head towards the steaming cup of coffee on the bedside table which Jack had been to distracted to even notice the rich scent of.

Ianto smirked as Jack hauled himself up, murmuring his usual greetings and promises of running a bath in that honeyed voice of his before leaving his employer to his thoughts. Jack watched him leave, the shadow of Ianto's words the previous night returning to his mind. As contented as he was for the most part, one anxious thought was constant... the knowledge that Ianto wouldn't always be his. Or rather, he wouldn't always be Ianto's. Oh, in heart and in spirit he would be, but with a chill in his bones and in his soul, he had to accept that one day a woman's claws would be thoroughly embedded in his back for life.

The vague thought of attempting to distance himself from the young man touched at his consciousness, but was immediately rejected. He remembered how it had felt last time... on the boat to New York and those first days in the city, trying to pull away for fear of how deeply he felt for Ianto... and how damn miserable it had made him. Ianto hadn't been much happier, if his solemn manner during that time was anything to go by, and that was before their relationship had reached the whole new plane they found themselves exploring now.

No, pulling away wasn't an option; he was too selfish, and Ianto's feelings too precious. The only option was to take each day as it came and enjoy whatever happiness they could cling to. As he padded naked towards the bathroom and silently watched Ianto bent over the steaming bubbles, the decided to take his own advice literally and grab the fabric-covered backside in front of him. It was worth the admonishing glare for the initial startled curse, and Jack couldn't feel guilty for the overriding peace he felt as he sank into the water, grabbing Ianto's hand and kissing the knuckles as he glided by.

Arrival at the latest theatre that was set to feel the dubious pleasure of Random Shoes was tinged with trepidation for Ianto, as he had to adjust once more to reality. That feeling being with Jack gave him, the all-encompassing emotion of being cut off from humanity and the world was disconcertingly powerful to the extent where he almost resented coming out of it so soon. He knew that it could only cause trouble and hurt at some point, this strange reliance on the man to whom he himself was meant to be indispensable.

However, what he had told Jack was true – he was in love with him, and he honestly couldn't recall not feeling _some_ kind of warmth in reaction to his mere presence. They were connected from the start, the phrase 'opposites attract' having come to mind hundreds of times since being in Jack's employ. He had watched the man develop in leaps and bounds emotionally, lose faith in his friends and fall in love in the space of weeks, whilst becoming stronger than Jack clearly ever thought he could be. Knowing his influence and care had caused that... Ianto couldn't step away. In a sense, Jack was still the project he had put himself forward for; only his motives had changed over time.

The first day back was uneventful, Ianto circling the stage like a bird of prey while the cast rehearsed. He didn't once catch a glimpse of James, though he knew that the man had done some more one-on-one with Jack during the afternoon, after which Jack cheerfully found his valet and asked him out for a quick dinner. He truly was blissfully ignorant, Ianto sighed to himself as his employer praised James' tactics and once again wondered aloud why nobody else liked him.

"What about you, Jones? You've got the sharpest mind I know of; what is it about James that everybody else finds so repulsive? Because I don't understand it..."

For a moment, Ianto longed for the ability to be as blindly trusting as Jack, and hoped his employer wouldn't have to find out before the end of the tour that James was a venomous, manipulative... so-and-so.

"I'm not a psychologist sir, and I hardly know these people well enough to judge their reactions subjectively."

"Do _you_ like him, Jones?" Jack asked suddenly, peering over his coffee cup.

"I have no feelings about him, sir" Ianto lied, raising his mask to stifle the sneer which threatened to mar his face.

"Liar" Jack murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards as his tone turned smug. "You never did like him, Jones. Is it because he's taken a fancy to me?"

"Your flatter yourself, sir" Ianto replied dryly, aware even as he said it that his shoulders were probably rising around his ears with tension. "Whether he has, as you say, taken a fancy to you or not is none of my concern."

Jack raised an eyebrow, knowing his valet well enough to see past the words that any other person might have read as unfeeling.

"You're right Jones, it's _not_ your concern" he nodded, brushing crumbs from his hands before linking his fingers together, resting his chin atop the latticework of his knuckles.

"No, sir" Ianto replied, meeting his gaze with a glint of challenge in his eyes.

"No. Because you're well aware that I only have eyes for one... and that person has nothing to worry about in terms of where my affections lie."

"I know that sir, as – I am sure – this person who has the good fortune of drawing your eyes does also" Ianto said lightly, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world.

"Good. Keep it that way, Jones" Jack said, seeing the subtle change in Ianto's face that spoke of relaxation and mischief, and fighting against his own natural desire to beam foolishly at the young man... or worse, grab his face and kiss him to within an inch of his life.

"All I shall say, sir, is that you must be very fortunate to have earned Mr. Harper's affection and respect. It's clearly not something he gives lightly" Ianto said, attempting diplomacy. Jack's eyes narrowed slightly as if to enquire further, before he acquiesced with a shrug.

"It's the jawline, Jones" he sighed, feigning internal suffering at the hands of his own good looks; "once seen, always yearned for."

"It is the most probable explanation, sir" Ianto replied, and Jack laughed straight from the gut.

"Kind of you to say so, Jones" he smirked, and all too soon they were forced to halt the ever-easy banter and return to the theatre.

Once more the performance was almost flawless, and what wasn't flawless was filled with improved jokes (mostly from Jack). The evening that followed was spent in the majority with Jack attempting to kiss Ianto whilst still wearing his stage moustache ("no Jack, never, absolutely never, get that dead caterpillar away from me _now_"), and doing anything else in his power to give the young man that beautiful disapproving scowl. _Nobody else could ever make me stop in my tracks the way he does_, Jack thought as Ianto gave him thirty seconds to remove the moustache or he was going to his own bedroom alone. _Nobody has ever made me need to earn their approval, not like this..._

Unfortunately, the next morning saw his lifeline being taken away from him.

"Sir, I have a telegram from Mr. Copley, the manager of our hotel in New York" came the words that awoke him from a delicious slumber, Ianto's face creased with concern as it came into view.

"What's happened, Jones?" he asked, voice hoarse with sleep, and he was certain a flicker of desire crossed Ianto's eyes before they refocussed.

"A thief, sir. The hotel staff failed to capture the criminal in question and Mr. Copley is asking that all of the residents check their belongings. More than half of our luggage remains there... I shall have to return to New York."

Even under the circumstances, Jack couldn't hide his disappointment, and his sole comfort was that Ianto looked similarly unhappy about the situation.

"I could come with you..." he began, but Ianto abruptly shook his head.

"The show must go on, sir" he said, smiling grimly. The issue of Jack's safety was minor in his mind in comparison to the concept of Jack's valuables and Ianto's own few heirlooms being stolen, but he decided that he would ask Eugene to keep an eye on Jack in his absence, no longer caring how clingy he seemed.

* * *

"Take care, sir" Ianto murmured as he boarded the train back to New York, somewhat warmed by Jack's unhappy pout.

"I can't even give you a kiss out here, Jones" he complained, looking at a loss as he stared up at his valet in the open carriage doorway.

"Save it for my return, sir" Ianto smiled.

"Which will be...?" Jack prompted.

"Two or three days, sir. The journey is a long one and I shall have to check our possessions thoroughly. Mr. Jones has given me a list of all of the prospective theatre visits, so whenever I return to the tour, I'll know where to come."

Jack sighed heavily and a stealthy conductor slid between them, slamming the carriage door in Ianto's face with unnecessary fervour. Jack couldn't help but laugh at his valet's indignant expression before the young man yanked down the window and tutted loudly.

"No respect, Jones" Jack sighed.

"Absolutely not, sir."

Their eyes locked and for a long moment, an warm, wordless longing passed between them, before a whistle was blown signalling Ianto's imminent departure.

"I mean it, sir – be careful" Ianto reminded him, almost wrinkling his nose at the mental image of Jack running after the moving train like a film heroine. Thankfully the man stood his ground, giving Ianto a jaunty salute before waving goodbye, looking lost and doe-eyed. Ianto felt the tug of emotion it produced even as he snorted at the ridiculousness of a grown man looking so exaggeratedly lonesome without his companion, and settled into his carriage, keen to lose himself in a book to wile away the long journey.

It took a full two hours for him to admit to himself that the real reason he itched to distract his mind was that he missed Jack already.

* * *

"Jack..."

"Yep?"

"Tell me about you and your butler."

Jack glanced at his understudy, chewing slowly on a wedge of cake so dense he feared for the state of his molars. For the first time during the tour, he was lunching alone with James and not with Ianto or the rest of the cast. James had insisted on taking him out, clearly influenced by pity, Jack thought, but he readily agreed if it meant not moping about alone.

"Valet" Jack corrected, watching James shrug as if he didn't know the difference. Which was probably true. "He looks after me because I'm too much of a spoilt brat to look after myself."

Jack flashed a self-deprecating smile. "What else is there to know?"

James shrugged again and took a sip of his green tea (he abhorred coffee – Jack had been aghast when he discovered it).

"Obviously I don't _know_ Jones particularly well... but he doesn't seem to _do_ much."

"There hasn't been a lot for him to _do_ on the production" Jack quickly argued, "but he gets me up every morning, keeps me functioning and looking presentable... runs the place wherever we're living... basically keeps me happy" he continued honestly, wondering why this was being brought up _now_ when James had always steadfastly ignored the very existence of Ianto Jones.

"He seems a little bit... _odd_ don't you think?" James murmured, wrinkling his nose. "Always watching everybody, lurking in the shadows... I can't help wonder what he does when you're not there."

Jack frowned; he often felt for Ianto, having to entertain himself when Jack was rehearsing and having meetings with James or Eugene, but he supposed he hadn't really thought about _what_ he was doing.

"I wouldn't call him odd" he said, raising his chin a little in defence. "Introverted, maybe. It works for his job. Besides which he's not so... I mean, he's more confident when it's just the two of us."

He cleared his throat and James smirked, his olive eyes glinting with... something. A strong hand gripped Jack's knee beneath the table separating them and Jack started, raising his gaze to find his understudy leaning closer than he realised.

"You know, you don't need to hire a glorified servant to do the things young Mr. Jones does for you" he murmured, sweet breath washing over Jack's face as those fingers dug in tighter, inching ever so slowly up Jack's thigh. "_Any_ of the things he does for you... Jack, there is a very long line of people who would be more than willing to _keep you happy_, as you put it..." James moved at lightning speed, his lips suddenly at Jack's ear as his prey's entire body tensed. "And guess who's at the front of the queue?"

Jack's mouth hung open in shock as James slithered away like a serpent, standing smoothly and dropping a couple of notes on the table before whispering "think about it", and spinning on his heel. Jack stared after his understudy, mind reeling and leg tingling where it had been grasped with such passion. So... James had finally made his move after all. Over a fortnight of stilted foreplay had come to this... and James had waited until Ianto wasn't there. Would he have tried it otherwise?

Jack was suddenly hit with a fresh wave of guilt when he realised that he hadn't even tried to say the thanks-but-no-thanks speech he'd had planned since he realised James was attracted to him. He hadn't done a particularly good job of defending Ianto either, and he certainly hadn't denied the implication that Ianto's role in his life extended beyond that of the average valet.

He groaned aloud, looking around to see whether any of the other diners had noticed their little exchange, but all were caught up in their own, untroubled worlds. _I wish Jones was here_ Jack thought as anxiety spread in his chest, needing his anchor (and his anchor's beautiful eyes) more than ever.

* * *

Ianto arrived at the hotel to find it as peaceful and civilised as ever. This was what he liked about the particularly sophisticated establishments Jack preferred – no matter where they were, the very British sentiment of keeping calm and carrying on was always in evidence. As such, it wasn't a surprise to him that nobody was making a fuss, for which he was glad. He was disorientated after the very long train journey, his lower back ached, and he was irritable to the extent where if the wrong person approached him, he could all-too-easily break his professional demeanour.

After a quick greeting to the baffled-looking receptionist and some small talk with the lift attendant, Ianto was once again in the suite he now secretly longed for after a week and a half in slightly grotty hotels and motels, unable to stay in the same bed as Jack in order to keep up appearances. A cursory glance suggested very little upset in what remained at the flat, but Ianto's thoughts strayed to what he had left here – antique cuff-links, his father's watch, the beautiful first edition Wilde book Jack had given to him – and with a renewed energy he began his sift through every single item in the flat, cataloguing it all in his eidetic memory... for which he was, yet again, extremely grateful.

By the time Ianto had checked their remaining possessions twice, it was early afternoon the following day, and he was at once annoyed and relieved to discover that all was present and correct. He had received a quick call the previous evening from Jack who, high on his pre-performance buzz, tried and failed to goad Ianto into some variety of telephonic fornication. Accepting defeat, he eventually admitted that he just wanted to know how Ianto was and hear his voice, while Ianto teased him for the sentiment and omitted the fact that having buried his face in the covers for purely scientific reasons, he was disappointed to find that neither bed in their suite smelt of Jack any longer.

Ensuring everything was back where it should be, Ianto decided to let the manager know that their section of the hotel had been untouched by the burgler(s), picking up the receiver and calling the direct number to his office.

"Aaron Copley speaking."

"Good afternoon Mr. Copley, this is Ianto Jones calling from suite four-five-six."

"Ahh, Mr. Jones, Beth in the foyer mentioned that she'd seen you. We weren't expecting you back so soon... will Mr. Harkness be arriving shortly?"

Ianto frowned, confused by the man's sudden lack of concern regarding the robbery.

"Mr. Copley, I returned as per your telegram..."

There was a pause and a shuffling of papers before an apologetic voice told him, "I didn't send you any telegram Mr. Jones, nor one to Mr. Harkness."

Ianto swallowed hard, his mind swirling with unpleasant possibilities.

"It was very early yesterday morning sir, telling me that a thief had caused a disturbance at the hotel the previous night and you needed all residents to check their belongings... hence my early return. It was an extremely long journey, Mr. Copley, and if this is all in jest..."

Ianto took a deep breath to calm himself, hearing the manager shifting slightly in his creaking seat.

"Mr. Jones, I assure you, I sent no such message and there has been no breach in security at the hotel" he said in a placating manner which sounded too much to Ianto like condescension.

"Then why on earth am I here, Mr. Copley?" Ianto ground out through his teeth, just as it came to him. A chill rushed through his veins and before the other man could splutter an indignant response, Ianto slammed down the receiver. A moment later he picked it back up and requested information, barking at the switchboard operator to connect him to the latest theatre in which Jack would be working.

It took a further ten minutes for the runner who answered the telephone to actually _find_ Jack, while Ianto paced the floor for the short distance that the telephone wire would allow.

"Hello?" a deep, comforting, confused voice eventually pierced the silent line and Ianto closed his eyes, letting out a short breath of relief.

"Sir, it's me" he murmured, nervously straightening his tie even with nobody there to see him.

"Well hi, me" Jack said cheerfully. "Is this going to be a saucy call? Because I ought to tell you, I have a valet who gets kind of possessive..."

"Most amusing, sir" Ianto said, rolling his eyes with a contrasting smile. Jack chuckled that velveteen chuckle of his and fell silent, clearly waiting for Ianto to tell him why he was calling in the middle of rehearsal.

"Not that it isn't wonderful to hear from you Jones, but... is there a reason for a call at this particular hour?"

"My apologies, sir" Ianto replied sincerely, wincing when he looked at the clock. "I simply thought that you should know nothing has been stolen."

"Oh fantastic, that's a relief!" Jack said, and Ianto could _hear_ his infectious grin.

"Indeed, sir. In fact..." Ianto continued, unsure whether to reveal the truth to Jack before he made a decision, "there _was _no thief. I spoke with Mr. Copley... the telegram wasn't sent from the hotel. Somebody was... playing a practical joke on me, it seems."

"That's... are you sure? It seems more than slightly pointless..."

"Quite sure, and yes, _entirely_ pointless" Ianto agreed, not believing it for a second. "An enormous waste of time in fact, sir."

"Huh... kind of weird, Jones" Jack said quietly.

"Somewhat of an understatement, sir" Ianto replied. "Can you... perhaps think of anybody who might know of our hotel and even the manager's name, in order to execute this ridiculous farce?"

"Owen, I suppose... Toshiko... Alex... Brock..."

"Somebody who knows that we're not currently at the hotel, sir" Ianto prompted out, not wanting to spell it out for him.

"But that would narrow it down to the guys in this production, Jones..." Jack said slowly, and Ianto glanced at the ceiling.

"I know, sir."

"Well... Eugene knows where we're living, for obvious reasons... getting the name of the manager wouldn't be difficult. I guess anybody could find those details."

"Anybody else, sir? You might have dropped it into everyday conversation with one of your friends in the cast..."

"They're not my friends, Jones. I don't really make small talk with any of them, besides James Harper. But why would he..."

A pause.

"Sir?"

Jack was silent for a few moments more before continuing in an overly-cheerful tone "Eugene would know and James _might_ know, I suppose."

Another pause.

"Hmm" Ianto hummed non-committally.

"So are you coming back, Jones?" Jack asked brightly, audibly shuffling his feet.

"As soon as possible, sir. How was last night's performance?"

"Good, good" Jack said distractedly. "Tonight might not run so smoothly."

"How so, sir?"

"You know Henry? Henry Parker, he plays the butler with that _terrible_ English accent..."

"I recall all too well, sir" Ianto replied, making Jack chuckle.

"Well anyway, about two hours ago a big ol' piece of the garden setting just fell away and landed on top of him... I mean to say, good lord, it wasn't anywhere _near_ secure! Eugene is just about ready to tear the entire crew new ass-"

"Were you on the stage at the time, sir?" Ianto asked hurriedly, heart pounding so hard he was sure Jack could hear it.

"Oh, yeah, I mean he was standing on my spot actually but Eugene was giving me some line direction and it missed me. I think everyone reckons the production is haunted... Henry's fine – at least, he _will_ be... he was knocked out and lost a bit of blood, he only caught the edge of it really, but... I think Eugene is actually taking his place just for tonight. He might have asked you to do it, if you were here..."

Ianto was no longer listening as the pieces fused more clearly than ever in his mind. He just needed to know one thing.

"Sir, tell me this – apart from when you have your one-on-one rehearsal sessions with James, does he ever join the rest of the cast on the stage for your full run-throughs?"

"Jones, what are you-"

"Jack, please, yes or no."

He heard Jack's breath catch on the mention of his name during work hours, and Ianto felt a little guilty for stooping to such a tactic, but under the circumstances...

"No."

"Sir, I'm coming back. Now."

"How-"

"There is an overnight train, sir. I'll be back by morning. Jack... _please_ be careful and keep to yourself until I return."

And with his final request, Ianto dropped the receiver once more and let out a long breath.

Though the half-formed thought had plagued him all along, it was now concrete in his mind. James Harper was trying to hurt _and_ seduce Jack... all whilst spitting his venomous words at Ianto and going so far as to force him out of the way for a few days. The entire motive still seemed unclear... but Ianto would do everything in his power to discover it, and expose James for what he was.

Even if Jack's feelings inevitably became a casualty.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Aaand here we are again, ladies and gents. This chapter is supposed to involve something of a climax, but... well... it all feels a tad Scooby Doo to me. I suppose that's for you lot to decide. Feel free to lie and tell me it's not too awful. Please...

Thanks, as ever, to all readers and especially the reviewers. I even got one whole extra review for Death Is Now An Option this week... wowsers. In fairness, I won't read anything tagged with MD either, especially since I completely lost interest after about the episode 3 mark so... yeah. It was just a cathartic piece for me. They've completely destroyed all that used to be Jack at this point (me-ow) so I wanted to write _our_ Jack again, if you get me.

On a lighter note, I went to the Time Machine Museum in Herefordshire on Wednesday and while it was mainly filled with Doctor Who awesomeness, they also had a Torchwood stun gun - with Torchwood case - as part of one display, and I discovered it actually has two settings - 'stun' and 'kill' (it was set to 'kill'). That was pretty damn cool. Well worth a visit if you live in the UK.

Anyway, shut up woman, nobody cares. ENJOY.

* * *

Ianto's journey dragged at an achingly slow pace, the eerie quiet of the overnight train giving him far too much opportunity to ponder on countless anxious possibilities. Wasn't it foolish that a grown man needed protecting? But Jack was so fragile, in certain ways... even as far as he'd come, he still trusted too easily. _Although_, his mind taunted him,_ this particular circumstance might have something to do with James Harper's chiselled face and soulful bloody eyes. _

Would Jack have so blindly walked into their strange little relationship if James wasn't so damn pretty? Even with his occasional intelligent wonderings, Jack never truly saw an issue with the fact that he was the _only_ one for whom James went out of the way to make himself charming, friendly and helpful. Somehow, that didn't seem suspicious to him... and even Jack had enough intuition that he should have questioned it more thoroughly long ago.

It didn't bother Ianto that Jack was a natural flirt. He always had been and he undoubtedly always would be. He liked to make other people feel good about themselves even if the words were completely hollow, but he was (almost) always well-meaning... and he should have seen through somebody's else's attempts to use the same tricks on him.

James, though... James only had to glance at Jack and Ianto felt his muscles tense in irritation. Even before he knew all he did now, before he had been subjected to the man's glaring and harsh words and having to watch him practically _grope_ Jack, he knew he was never going to trust him. So when Jack smiled and winked and undoubtedly threw carefree double entendres about in his presence, those normally endearing qualities of his made Ianto itch and snarl with discontent.

It wasn't until his arrival at the necessary stop, exhausted as he stepped into the total blackness of a foreign town, that it occurred to him that while he had a list of the theatres that were to be visited, he had no idea where the cast and crew were spending the night. Irritated that the other distractions of his mind had caused him to uncharacteristically forget such arrangements, he spoke tersely to the information line (for the second time in twenty-four hours, he thought with regret) after hunting down a public telephone and eventually found himself outside of a hotel which seemed to rival some of the more unpleasant establishments viewed during the tour.

It could well have been where the others were staying, Ianto realised as he glanced around the tasteless décor of the foyer, but either way he decided he would be at the theatre first thing in the morning to find Jack, even if it meant that he could steal barely three hours of restless sleep beforehand.

_If he's already been hurt, I will be extremely cross_ Ianto seethed to himself as he finally crawled between faded yet crisp, clean sheets, wondering – as he sometimes did in the madness of exhaustion – why on earth he bothered with a career in looking after other people when it all too often meant he had to put looking after himself on hold. Perhaps if Jack ever saw sense, it would eventually seem worth the effort...

* * *

Jack spent his night semi-awake and entirely confused, rolling from one side of the bed to the other and feeling more alone than he had in the longest time. He didn't like Ianto's implications about James – not one bit – but he had to admit, it was strange. Curling around a pillow that smelt not of Ianto's delicate musk but harsh cleaning products, he knew it was vaguely plausible that James could have had Ianto called away in order to make his move. As his conversation with Ianto the previous night had progressed, he'd recalled that he had indeed told James about their hotel – including, in passing, the name – but they spent a great deal of time alone, running lines and moves, during which the other man could have come onto him without Ianto around. It seemed so unnecessary... wasn't it just as credible that he was simply grasping at their time alone with both hands as a reaction to Ianto being called away, rather than because of it? It didn't mean he was the one to orchestrate the bizarre prank...

As for the suggestion that James could have been the one to hurt Henry and, by association, cause the other accidents that had haunted the tour... it was frankly absurd. Jack knew he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer when it came to common sense, but it didn't take a genius to gather from Ianto's careful words what he was inferring before their call abruptly ended. Ianto was the most intelligent, sensible man Jack knew and here he was, forming conspiracy theories! And to pin the blame on a man like James Harper? He may not have been popular, but he was a good pal to Jack, if a little too eager in his tactility. He couldn't help it – he felt protective of him.

Jack didn't _want_ to entertain the idea that Ianto could be jealous to such an extent as make this serious claim based on the emotion, but he couldn't think what evidence his valet could possibly have. Flares of annoyance towards the young man continued to assault him, and sleep was a very long time coming as a result of feelings of ill towards the one he loved.

* * *

Entering the theatre swiftly, Ianto fought to ignore the fact that he felt even worse than he had before his head hit the pillow. Such a lot of travel over a short period, intermingled with seething irritation and rolling waves of worry left him nauseous and with a headache which pounded in a steady rhythm, on and on. His thoughts, however, were more focussed on the whereabouts of his employer and his employer's understudy, though he knew all too well that he couldn't do anything about James unless he caught him in the act of setting up a new way to damage and/or seduce Jack – which was exactly what he hoped to do. There would be no other way of proving to Jack that the _divine_ Mr. Harper was in actuality a psychopath.

The theatre, though open, was silent and Ianto took a few minutes to take the venue in. It was a good size, if a little shabby, and though the props were not yet on the stage Ianto could envisage both them and the cast, making the audience laugh riotously as always. His mouth twitched a little at the corners, wishing he had taken the chance before now to watch the full show from this angle. Now that he would have to focus all of his attention on what happened behind the scenes, there would be no chance of getting distracted by the entertainment.

"Mr. Jones!" called a jolly voice from behind him and Ianto was more pleased than he ever expected to be to see Eugene approaching with a beaming grin.

"Mr. Jones" he answered, shaking the other man's hand as he approached.

"Didn't expect you back so soon; is everything alright at the hotel?" Eugene asked, his eyes bright and guileless.

"Yes sir, nothing has been stolen as far as I could see."

"You're meticulous in everything you do Mr. Jones; if you could find nothing wrong, I'm sure that's the case" Eugene replied, and Ianto stared at him in surprise. It occurred to him that while the two of them rarely conversed, whenever they did Eugene was exceptionally _nice_ to him, even going so far as to always refer to him as Mr. Jones as opposed to just 'Jones' – not in the unpleasant, sarcastic way in which James did, but in a far more respectful manner.

He offered a slightly shaky smile in return, murmuring "I hope that to be the case, sir."

"You really don't have to call me that, Mr. Jones" Eugene teased, "I'm not your master. You _could_ just call me Eugene; I'd be more than happy with that."

Ianto frowned slightly at the sudden invite of friendly familiarity, but he nodded his assent before a thought occurred to him.

"Eugene" he began, the informal address sounding odd falling from his lips, "would anybody have access to the personal information you keep about the actors in your employ?"

"No" Eugene immediately replied, "all of the files are locked up at my office back in New York."

"Do you never need to view them for reference?" Ianto asked in surprise, and Eugene grinned.

"No need. Eidetic memory" he said, tapping his temple with two fingers. "Great for somebody in my position; I can memorise an entire script in one reading."

Ianto cocked his head, amazed at the hidden depths of a man he felt as if he'd only just met, and at meeting another person who possessed the same kind of mental abilities as he did.

"Extraordinary" he replied, and Eugene seemed inordinately pleased.

"Jack should be here soon, I assume you're waiting for him."

"Indeed so."

"Well, I'm glad you're back. He's kind of an ass without you by his side" Eugene said with a grim smile and after a small hesitation, patted Ianto's shoulder.

Ianto watched him march down an aisle and disappear behind the stage, marvelling at how badly he'd misjudged the man... which wasn't like him at all. He had no further time to ponder on it though as the cast and crew began to file in, brushing past him without a glance. Then, finally, there was Jack, who looked almost as exhausted as Ianto felt. The visceral thrill of seeing his employer again waned considerably on realising that Jack didn't look nearly as pleased by the reunion, and he cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Good morning, sir" he greeted him as Jack halted awkwardly before him, giving him a slightly suspicious glance up and down.

"Jones" he nodded. "Everything fine back at the fort, then?"

"Yes, sir... aside from what I told you yesterday" Ianto replied, a slight frowning drawing his eyebrows towards each other.

"Good, good. Well... I'd better get on with rehearsal" Jack muttered, and Ianto's shoulders slumped in the face of his lover's almost expressionless visage.

"Of course, sir" he managed to mumble, before the older man turned on his heel.

Jack's complete lack of greeting, enthusiasm and warmth was enough to stun Ianto into leaning against the nearby wall for support. His employer hurried away with a glance back, feeling guilt flood his chest at the way he had just treated his single real friend. His heart had soared at the sight of him again, Ianto's eyes sparkling bright even though the delicate skin around them was darkened with blatant sleeplessness, but instead of hugging the breath out of him he had been short and cold, and now he was running away like the coward he was.

And why? Because he was still irritated by Ianto's theories about James? Why did he care? _Because James is your friend_ he told himself, knowing it wasn't true. James was an acquaintance, a pal at perhaps, but he wasn't truly a friend. _Fine, because it'll wound your pride if Ianto is right, so you're doing what you always do – raising your defences_.

And he knew it was true. He cared about James because he was helpful, he was unappreciated by everybody else, he was attractive... and he gave Jack the kind of cheap ego boost he lapped up. As much as he wanted to say he valued the way James treated him with respect and aided him anywhere he could, it was the darkened eyes and lingering hands – which spoke of anything _other_ than respect – that he truly enjoyed. _God, I really haven't changed... _

Disgusted with himself, Jack chanced a quick glance past side-stage to look for his valet, but Ianto was nowhere to be seen. With a heavy sigh, Jack threw himself into preparing for the evening's performance; anything to avoid thinking too hard about how he was going to fix this baffling bump in the road of his life with Ianto Jones.

* * *

As it transpired, Jack did manage to spend the day wheedling out of any chance to have to speak to Ianto. He caught glimpses of the young man – examining scenery, fingering ropes and clips, seemingly unselfconscious of getting under anybody's feet – but while he was always within reach in a professional capacity for whenever Jack might need him, he kept his distance, making it easier for Jack to have lunch with the rest of the crew instead of inviting Ianto to join him.

Ianto, more hurt than he wished to admit even to himself by Jack's reaction to him that morning, threw himself into checking every inch of the set and behind the stage. By the afternoon – when Jack, he knew, was with James – he was frustrated by the fact that he hadn't found anything amiss. He had talked himself into certainty that James was the one behind the accidents, but he needed evidence. It was possible that this was one of the nights during which everything would run smoothly, but his mind's exhaustion was enhancing the idea that something about today felt wrong... beyond the fact that his lover refused to look at him and was spending his afternoon with another man. A man who wanted to damage him.

Ianto halted in his tracks, wondering how on earth his life came to this. The downs were becoming more numerous than the ups during these last few weeks, feeling just as he did not many weeks ago, and he missed the comforts of Cardiff and grey skies and solitude more than ever. _Pull yourself together, Jones_ he scolded himself, physically brushing himself down before he continued on his search for... anything. That Jack was in some kind of danger, he was absolutely certain, and if Ianto Jones was nothing else, he was a damn good valet. Therefore, he would do anything he possibly could to protect his master... and deal with the strange, strained awkwardness between them later.

* * *

Curtain call loomed and Jack was alone, nervously attempting to get into the mindset of his character. It wasn't normally an issue – the man was footloose, optimistic, and a shameless flirt – and so it wasn't much of an artistic stretch for somebody like Jack. However tonight, he simply wasn't feeling _any_ of those things, confused by recent events and feeling the loss of Ianto's immediate support keenly. Even James seemed intent on making his whirring feelings even harder to fathom, pulling back on his previous flirtation while his eyes still burned with a promissory glow.

When a pair of shoes clicked behind him, hope flared with the idea that Ianto might be the one strong enough to make the first move and come to wish him luck, but it was James who stood immediately behind Jack in Ianto's usual place, so close he could smell him.

"Nervous?" he whispered, his breath hot on Jack's neck.

"No" Jack lied, wanting to just get on stage and get it over with.

"Where's Jones?" James asked.

"I don't know."

"Oh" James said, that one tiny syllable dripping with accusations. "I guess you've been busy, but... have you thought about what I said yesterday, over lunch?"

Jack sighed; he'd tried to do anything _but_. "James, look, I-"

His shoulder was grabbed firmly and he was spun around, James's large, tanned hands immediately rising to cup his face.

"I meant every word" he murmured, before leaning in and pressing his lips to Jack's.

Jack didn't, _couldn't_ react; he didn't kiss back and he didn't push James away. Instead, his mind automatically went to the calm, blank place that was its default, as it always did when he was unexpectedly faced with something he didn't know how to handle. After only a moment, James withdrew and affectionately rubbed the cleft in Jack's chin with a thumb before letting him go.

"Break a leg" he smiled from under his thick lashes, and then he was gone just as the orchestra began to swell.

* * *

_There's nothing here_, Ianto conceded helplessly, relieved and irritated by the thought as he sank into the shadows backstage and listened to the jaunty music on the other side of the curtain. He had discovered no malfunctioning props, no loose nuts, nothing at all which had the potential to damage somebody, and he groaned at the thought of spending another day doing the same at a new theatre, all for the sake of a man who hadn't looked at him twice since his return from New York.

But as slow and worn down as his reactions were in his current state, the shuffle of movement nearby didn't go unnoticed. As he peered around into nothingness, it eventually occurred to him that the sound was coming from _beneath_ the stage, and he crept as quietly as his weary bones would carry him down the open hatch of the narrow stairwell that led to the bowels of the building.

The air was musty deep within the theatre's lowest depths, and fresh dust fell with every heavy step above. It took a moment for Ianto's sight to adjust, but once it did, movement caught his eye... and there he was – James Harper, eyes wide and flashing pale in the low light, one hand clasped tightly around a lever that Ianto didn't recognise protruding from a complex knot of ropes on the wall.

"Enjoying a stroll, Mr. Jones?" James murmured, a fidgeting of his spare hand giving away any distress he felt at his capture.

"Not really Mr. Harper, no" Ianto replied, "dark, damp spaces are normally the chosen dwelling of cockroaches and rats. I can see why you were drawn here" he said coolly, making James sneer.

"What _is_ that lever?" he asked, watching green eyes flick towards it.

"The trap door" he replied as if it were the most obvious explanation in the world. "Directly in the centre of the stage. It swings down pretty neatly on a double hinge, you see... normally used for comedy acts, and _normally_ with something soft underneath to land on. Annoyingly, not a lot of theatres have them these days... otherwise I would have been able to try this sooner."

"Try what, exactly?" Ianto asked, although with a fresh jolt of nausea, he was quite sure he already knew.

James smirked, the knuckles wrapped around the lever whitening further.

"I know exactly where Jack's feet are at any one time, just from hearing the music. There was absolutely no need to spend quite so much time going through the exact dance steps with him otherwise... yet nobody thought it strange."

Ianto huffed an incredulous, almost hysterical laugh. "So your plan is to, what, kill Jack with a trap door? Just how many vaudeville performances have you _been_ to?"

James shook his head with a deceptively gentle smile. "It had to be something which could easily go wrong in this setting. The lighting, the bottle, the scenery... a trapdoor. It's not beyond belief, even when it happens over and over again. These stupid assholes think the production is _haunted_! It's just so damn easy to sabotage!"

"Why do you want to hurt Jack?" Ianto asked, disturbed by the easy logic of James's reasoning.

James's face immediately hardened. "This was supposed to be _my_ show" he seethed. "_My_ big break. But that over-sensitive _bastard_ Eugene tried to get rid of me, and I knew that as soon as he cast somebody else, I'd need to get them out of the way if I wanted a chance in this show."

"Your quarrel isn't with Jack; he could have been _killed_..."

"A broken bone or two at most. Even falling through the trapdoor won't kill him... it shouldn't have come to this; he was meant to be out of the running a week ago, but he's practically untouchable, like he's... invincible or something. I'm running out of time, and I'm sorry, but he _really_ has to go."

Ianto balled his hands into fists, fighting to gather his every last molecule of restraint in the face of James's bizarre calm.

"So... why did you have me called back to the hotel?"

James shrugged, and Ianto was struck by the knowledge that this really was just a game to him. "I thought it might help to get you out of the way for a few days. It took you longer than I expected to figure me out, but still, Jack is weak without you nearby... weak and impressionable, with the added bonus of lacking his personal bodyguard."

"There is something very wrong with you, Mr. Harper" Ianto said quietly, even as he reeled with the cold simplicity of James's plan. It made so much sense...

"People have done worse for showbiz" James smiled, cocking his head to the side and taking a long, penetrative look at Ianto.

"I won't let you hurt Jack" Ianto said, proud that his voice didn't waver even in reaction to the holes James was burning through his flesh with only his eyes.

"Really? Do you know _exactly_ where he's standing now? Because I do... and I know where he'll be in exactly four minutes."

"And what is he going to think when the first face he sees is yours?" Ianto retorted, fighting increasingly against the pressure of weariness as panic and helplessness flooded him further, even while the ghost of a plan slowly formed in his mind.

"You think he's going to suspect _me_?" James asked, clearly incredulous. "The man worships me, Mr. Jones. The only one who's been with him every step of the way... who's been invaluable... who's kept his ego fed and wanting _more_... who comforted him while you were away..."

His voice dropped to a whisper for the last few words, and Ianto's impassive mask threatened to shatter.

"Driving a wedge between the two of you was just a bonus. You're all too easy to insult, Mr. Jones, and your master is an idiot" James smirked, adding with a leer "but he does have exceptionally soft lips."

Ianto broke then, but instead of destroying James's perfect nose as he so longed to do, he turned and dashed back up the stairs two steps at a time and not caring about the noise.

"What do you think you're doing?" James called after him, wariness tainting his infuriated tone and as Ianto's eyes fell on the only weapon he could think of using, he gripped it with a shaking hand before checking Jack's position through a gap in the curtain.

"My job" Ianto replied under his breath, and slammed down the red handle that signalled the fire alarm.

A shrill ring reverberated throughout the entire building, shrieks of terror immediately rising from the stalls as the audience instinctively panicked. Ianto rushed to the top of the steps he'd just ascended in time for James to barrel into him, shoving Ianto back into the wall with a winding blow.

"He'll never believe you" James hissed, preparing to push himself back off the wall just as Ianto cocked one leg and swept James's feet from under him. As the other man fell onto his back with an indignant howl, Ianto dropped heavily on top of him and slammed James's wrists against the hard wooden floor, breathing hard as his aching muscles protested.

He dropped his head and leaned his entire weight onto his struggling captive, coughing through his breathlessness and completely unaware of the footsteps rushing coming closer. When finally he raised his eyes, he found himself surrounded by various cast members whose expressions ranged from furious to frightened downright to baffled as they took in his dishevelled appearance, his position on top of a bucking man and their close proximity to the fire alarm. _Oh, of course, they finally look at me NOW_ Ianto thought bitterly, just as Jack shoved his way through the throng and came into Ianto's line of vision, his frown firm and his jaw tight.

"Jones... what the _hell_ is going on?"


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Oh look, early chapter! I'm celebrating, y'see. Not only did I zoom past the 400 reviews mark this week, but this chapter here puts me over 100K words, which is bloody absurd and amazing and I honestly didn't think this story would last more than a few weeks. It's all down to the support - the reviews and PM's and the favourites, all those kinds words - that's what has kept me going, so thank you everybody.

So, since I finished this chapter early and I'm actually happy with it (le shock), I thought it might be a nice reward for my regulars. Besides which, you've been begging me to fix the mess I made... thus, here we are. Jack caught a lot of flack for the last few chapters, but this might make you see things differently. Hopefully some surprising dimensions not only to Jack and Ianto, but also Eugene here. The character of Eugene is entirely dedicated to **brionyjae**, who inspired me to make him the way he is... and come out with the admission he's about to make!

While I'm at it, I'd like to recommend Bri's story **Torchwood: A Musical!**, which is the most ridiculously fun and completely unique fanfic you'll ever read! It's even written like a play script, with stage directions and rewritten classic songs... it's just ingenious. Trust me.

Aaanyway... on with the show!

* * *

In a bare, battleship-grey waiting room at the eerily quiet local police station, Ianto shuffled once more on the hard wooden chair he'd been practically shoved down onto and hoped his coccyx wouldn't suffer permanent bruising. In a moment of rebellion against propriety, he let his knees fall wide apart and his head thud dully against the wall behind him, his uniform suddenly feeling restrictive when he thought about just how long he'd been awake and wearing it.

After enduring the painfully humiliating experience of attempting to explain himself whilst still on top of a struggling James, Eugene immediately rushed to support his garbled claims, though Ianto was sure that the gesture was fuelled by his intense dislike of Jack's understudy rather than an actual belief in Ianto's story. The cast, impressionable as they were, immediately began to whisper about both James and Ianto – one of whom they disliked and one of whom they didn't know at all – making their own speculations as between them, Ianto and Eugene hauled the offending man to his feet.

The Welshman had reluctantly turned to look at Jack at that moment, finding shock and hurt and resentment creasing his handsome face. But any immediate reaction regarding the truth of the accusations, Ianto couldn't gauge. Jack's mind was closed to him and they simply stared unblinking at each other for a long moment before Eugene startled them all by shouting for somebody to call the police.

Three hours later and here he was, on the least comfortable chair he had ever had the misfortune to sit upon, more then aware of the fact that his lover, whilst presumably still in the same building, was keeping as far away from him as possible. The police, on collecting James (who had already made two breaks for it – something which could only be seen as an admission of guilt by a man who refused to open his mouth to confirm or deny a thing) had insisted that the 'victim', i.e. Jack, would be required to attend questioning along with Ianto and Eugene.

Ianto had been grilled first, spilling anything he thought was relevant to James's attempt at seriously harming his employer, recounting their conversations (omitting the parts that were embarrassing to mention) with absolute clarity. Then it was Jack's turn, and as he emerged some time later with Eugene called in behind him, he and Ianto spent a few minutes sitting opposite each other in frosty silence before Jack finally left the room. Not a word had passed the older man's lips in Ianto's presence since he asked with baffled fury _what the hell is going on?, _and not knowing how the man was feeling caused a physical tightness to dig its sharp tendrils deeper into Ianto's chest.

In his quiet misery and with no expectations of Jack returning, he slid further down his chair and let loose a heavy sigh, for the first time in longer than he could remember feeling as if everything around him was entirely beyond his control.

"You must be exhausted" murmured a soft, kindly voice, and Ianto immediately resumed his perfect posture at the sight of Eugene's rangy frame lingering in the doorway.

"I feel as if I've been awake for a week" Ianto admitted, realising that he must have been truly fatigued to agree to a weakness so readily.

Eugene huffed a sympathetic laugh, shifting further into the dingy room and closing the door behind him. After a hesitation, he sat himself two seats away from Ianto, leaning forwards with his elbows against his knees and finding an interesting stain on the floor to stare at.

"You should have told me. I would have had Harper out of here in an instant, without all this... mess."

And just like that, the repercussions of Ianto's secrecy hit him harder than James's shoulder in his gut. He had single-handedly ruined a show, tonight... perhaps ruined an entire tour; risked Jack's life further by allowing it to continue, risked his _feelings_ further, and destroyed something the man sitting close to him now was enormously passionate about. His project, grown from a seed and undone – loudly – in one evening by a stubborn valet.

"Eugene, I- I..." he stuttered, remorse thick as cotton wool lodged in his throat, but Eugene simply flapped a hand in a simple motion which seemed to speak of acceptance and forgiveness all at once.

"I understand" he said softly, so quietly Ianto had to lean a little closer.

"I handled this horribly."

"You've spent your entire career serving others so you grasp your independence when you can in those between-moments... and you don't have much of a life of your own so you need to be in charge of what you _do_ have, without running for help... am I getting warm?"

Eugene turned his head with a knowing smile, and Ianto stared wide-eyed at him for far longer than was polite before he answered, a little hoarsely:

"Precisely."

"If it had been anybody else, I might have ripped their head off by now, but you..." he trailed off, gaze once more resting on the tiles beneath their feet and missing Ianto's frown.

"Me?" he prompted, not quite understanding how Eugene was keeping so calm when he could have been taking out his distress on the man who caused it.

"Mr. Jones, Jack is extremely fortunate to have you. I think perhaps he needs to be reminded of that more often."

"He could probably do with a valet who isn't quite so obstinate and interfering" Ianto said with heavy self-deprecation, prompting a sigh from Eugene.

"I didn't mean just professionally" he muttered, picking invisible lint from his cuff.

Ianto swallowed hard and thought back to that moment back when they met for the second time; the glance Eugene had given he and Jack as a couple which he had thought was one of judgement. Perhaps he'd been wrong in the assumption.

"You and Jack... you're very brave" Eugene continued, his voice lowering and filled with an unnameable emotion. "Not that you're blatant about it, I hasten to add... I don't think anybody who doesn't have experience of forbidden love, for want of a better phrase, could tell, but... you're brave for letting yourself feel it. For not ignoring that pull when most of the world would have you do so."

He turned to smile at Ianto once more, the corners of his mouth seeming to tremble and Ianto couldn't decide whether he was so uncomfortable that he wanted to bolt, or so moved that he wanted to hug the man breathless.

"You have experience in this area" he said softly, not meaning it as a question.

"Yes. But I always was a coward" Eugene admitted with a shrug.

"Is that why..." Ianto began, choosing his words carefully; "you are... different, in front of the actors. Different to how you were when we met at The Rift, in fact. I've never seen you like..." he made a gesture with his hand, somehow spelling out _this deep and damaged man_, watching Eugene slowly nod.

"You're not the only one who wears a professional mask, Mr. Jones. We wear them differently but they do the same job."

Ianto wished he had seen through it from the start. If he had focussed on Eugene a little more, cracked the exuberant and frankly irritating exterior sooner, it might not have been a wrench to go to him when he required help. He might have found a support system outside of Jack.

"What will happen with the play now?" he asked, feeling a need for a change of subject which Eugene's grateful smile confirmed was for the best.

"Assuming Jack no longer wants to be involved... I don't know. Cancel the rest of the tour, I guess... there were only three days left, after all. We made a decent amount of money, I can go back to the drawing board in New York and start something new with a bit of cash behind me for a change. For better or worse, Jack Harkness was a Godsend for this play. I'm thinking of just rewriting it slightly, keeping the alarm in and calling it _Where's The Fire?_."

Ianto chuckled, amazed by how good it felt to laugh, and Eugene joined in.

"I hope you go on to do great things" Ianto said when silence reigned again.

"You too" Eugene smiled, a sparkle returning to his eye. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the theatre to let my actors down gently."

He pushed himself to his feet and moved slowly to the door, the sharp heels of his shining shoes echoing in the dingy room. Ianto watched his departure with a heart full of guilt and stood before the other man could leave.

"Eugene... I truly am sorry" he said, achingly aware of how hollow and inarticulate it sounded, and stepped forward to shake Eugene's hand. Eugene looked surprised but he grasped Ianto's fingers tightly, holding on even after the motion had ceased.

"And I truly mean it when I say Jack is lucky to have you" he replied, a look of undisguised attraction suddenly filling his eyes as if it had been forcibly restrained all this time, to which Ianto was distinctly unused. "He's a stubborn ass too but he knows which side his bread is buttered. Just don't forgive him too quickly, okay? Make him earn it."

He gave a wry smile before letting go of Ianto's hand and turning away from him without another glance, striding down the corridor with his head held higher than Ianto had seen before.

Ianto watched him leave, quietly startled by his words. Alone now, and deciding that the notably absent police no longer required his presence, he followed Eugene's route out of the building, wishing that in the flurry of activity surrounding James's arrest he'd had the time to pick up his coat. The evening air, as he stepped out into it, wasn't too chilly but he felt exposed and scruffy, though quite sure that he didn't look as dishevelled as he felt.

Turning a corner, he wondered where on earth he was likely to find a taxi at this hour when suddenly and unexpectedly, he was face-to-face with Jack, the older man's expression dark and tense.

"Sir... I assumed you had left" Ianto said quietly, his weary mind recoiling from the look in Jack's eyes which said _we need to talk. _

"I was waiting for you" Jack replied, his own voice just as low and surprisingly uncertain. "I thought we could walk back."

Ianto stared at him and Jack averted his gaze, his shoulders hunched and jaw set tight. Ianto knew that stance. It was something Jack adopted when he knew he'd done wrong and the regret of it was weighing him down, but he had to work up to discussing it because he loathed feeling stupid.

"Very good, sir" the younger man replied, having already memorised the route from their drive down in a convoy of police cars... something he knew that Jack was relying on, and he felt twin flares of resentment and affection mingle as one with the knowledge.

A full five minutes of agonising silence went by before Jack opened his mouth, his deep murmur seeming too loud in the stillness of the night.

"James admitted everything" he said, raising his eyes to the stars as he did. "I was waiting until they'd finished with Eugene to catch up with one of our questioners and ask. They still had to get our stories and make sure they were consistent, but James apparently decided that going to prison for something so outrageous would make him more famous than stage acting ever could. Besides, I hear they have a great amateur dramatics society at Sing Sing."

Ianto might have laughed at the half-hearted joke had he been feeling marginally more jovial.

"I'm sure he shall feel right at home, sir" he replied, not keen on even _hearing _the name 'James' for the foreseeable future. But they would have to talk about this, and his desire to get the air cleared just about outweighed his desire to run and hide and sleep. For now.

"He used me, Ianto" Jack said, his voice dull but Ianto felt the betrayal behind the statement.

"Yes, sir."

"You knew he was using me."

Ianto halted in his tracks, exhaustion making him defensive as he glared at Jack, who stopped too and spun to face him. Ianto was slightly placated by the lack of real accusation in Jack's eyes, but it wasn't enough.

"I suspected from the start, yes. And I told you more than once that I found it strange, the way James acted with you when he had made himself so unpopular with everybody else. But you..." he faltered, wondering whether to continue with his harsh-but-true speech and deciding it was for Jack's own good: "you were too busy having your ego flattered to question it."

To his surprise, and in a gesture which earned Jack a boost to Ianto's waning respect for him, his employer nodded and said "I know", his expression now open and filled with regret. Ianto's lips parted but even if he'd been able to find the words, Jack held up a hand to stop him, needing to speak now that he'd begun.

"I didn't want to imagine he could have an ulterior motive. He seemed to _like_ me... actually like me. You're the only other person who does" Jack said, a sad half-smile lifting his lips before disappearing just as quickly. "And yeah, he... I knew he rather fancied me too. And I didn't discourage his flirting, I liked the attention... I know how weak that makes me sound. But nothing would ever have happened."

Ianto raised an eyebrow, remembering James's snide mention of Jack's soft lips which had flipped a switch so violently in his own head. He could easily have been bluffing... but Ianto had to admit, he wasn't certain either way. Jack looked pained by his sceptical expression, seeming as if he was going to surge forward but holding himself back.

"Ianto... I wouldn't have taken him up on his offer" he said softly, jealousy flaring in Ianto's mind in reaction.

"He _made_ an offer?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Jack looked shamefaced, but he nodded.

"The day you were called back to New York. And tonight, before the show... he kissed me" Jack said darkly. Ianto shifted slightly, ignoring the surge of animalistic possession he felt rising in him and focussing on the fact that Jack had admitted it; there was confirmation, and he'd told Ianto the truth.

"I see" he replied simply.

"It was brief... and I did _not_ kiss him back Ianto" Jack said firmly, the raw honesty in his statement convincing Ianto it was true. He nodded, giving Jack permission to continue.

"The police said... something about James making personal threats towards you."

Ianto glanced at him, concern and a little admonishment in Jack's face. "Petty insults simply for his own warped sense of enjoyment, sir" he shrugged, all of James's barbed words coming back to him.

"If you'd told me..."

"This mess could have been avoided. I know."

"I could have helped."

"And you might have believed me."

"I don't always see things as clearly as you can. Sometimes I let my pride lead me... and I didn't know about the way he'd been belittling you."

"I know, sir."

"Ianto?"

"Sir?"

"I'm sorry."

Ianto's lungs emptied in one long rush and he felt heavy, tired and completely lacking in emotional energy.

"You didn't trust me, Jack" he said quietly, "all of this was to protect you, and... I did an utterly appalling job of it, I realise that, but even at the end you were unsure whose side to take until it was confirmed for you."

Jack stared into his eyes, his own sparkling with unshed moisture.

"I didn't know what to think, when I saw you both there" he admitted, voice strained. "I blanked out my thoughts because I didn't want to believe any of the scenarios my brain was inventing. I didn't want you to be right about James... but I didn't want you to be wrong either, because _you_ are the most important person in my life. I was cowardly, and I've hurt you again when I promised I wouldn't. But Ianto..." Jack stepped forward and after a second of hesitation, took Ianto's hand in his own, "you didn't trust _me_ either."

It was distressingly true. Ianto didn't trust that Jack would believe him if he told him about the personal abuse, entirely sure now that Jack would have taken his word for it and supported him in removing James from the production. He didn't trust him with his jealousy, his loneliness, or his homesickness which had haunted him for the entirety of their time as part of 'Random Shoes'. He hadn't even entirely trusted that Jack wouldn't have been more tempted by James than he was...

With a jolt of surprise, Ianto realised that far from being emotionally stunted in the way Jack was handling his humiliation after some frankly immature behaviour, Jack was showing remarkable development. Not only had he reached his conclusions on his own and in record time – amazing for a man who was, as he so often said himself, '_slow on the uptake_' – but more importantly, he had realised that the blame wasn't entirely his. He could see through his self-pity well enough to know that Ianto had been wrong too... and as Ianto sucked in another trembling breath, he laced his fingers with Jack's, watching as relief flooded his lover's previously tense expression.

"I'm sorry too" he whispered, realising now that he had been so focussed on 'improving' Jack (for both of their sakes), he hadn't done much towards working on his _own_ insecurities. Jack had broken him down during their time together, allowed him to come out of his shell, but it was during those times where he was naked and vulnerable and it _wasn't_ just the two of them – two men who, it had seemed, could take on anything as long as they were together – when he was reminded that he wasn't as strong as he wanted to be.

Jack watched his young valet and shoved aside his personal hurt and embarrassment in order to fill his mind and heart once more with Ianto Jones. Unknotting their fingers he pulled Ianto in tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around the Welshman's broad shoulders and pressing his face into that soft, unusually tousled hair. This would require far more discussion before it could be entirely let go of, but for now they were both so utterly wrung out that they simply needed the anchor of one another more than anything.

"No more hiding from each other?" Jack murmured, the short brunette strands tickling his lips. Ianto simply nodded against the curve of his neck, his own arms looped tightly around Jack's waist. Jack wondered how it might have been if Ianto wasn't his valet, only his lover... if he might have come to him sooner, if Jack might not have revelled so much in James's attention because it was 'working hours' and Ianto had his personal rules... rules which Jack respected, but which sometimes frustrated him. But if Ianto was only his lover and not his valet too, it would be unseemly for them to live together, to spend every hour together, to be so close... and at the end of it all, they'd still be pulled apart eventually. Both scenarios held a jagged edge.

With no more words, they put some space between them and completed the walk back to the theatre, lost in their own thoughts but keeping close. The silence was no longer thick and uncomfortable, but contemplative and forgiving if tinged with regret, those familiar strands of mutual need knitting back together after being neglected.

The theatre was still open and lit, but thankfully nobody other than a few straggling crew members remained, smoking in the foyer to put off having to pack away the remaining set pieces.

"Wait here Jones, I'll quickly change and grab our coats" Jack said softly in Ianto's ear, striding down the aisle and disappearing behind the stage as Ianto had watched Eugene do countless hours ago. He took in the glow of the stage and the rich red curtains once more, again imagining Jack spinning across it with his Clark Gable moustache and the high slacks he was still wearing. He'd found something he enjoyed, something for which he had real talent... and Ianto had taken it away from him.

Sighing, he allowed his mind to drift and when Jack made his way back to him (his own coat already on), Ianto stared unashamedly at his approach. Jack held his penetrating gaze and smiled wryly, holding Ianto's coat up for him when he came to a stop and motioning for him to turn around. Ianto raised his eyebrows in surprise but did as was silently requested, Jack's sure hands sliding the heavy wool up his arms and adjusting its weight on his shoulders in an imitation of what his young valet normally did for him. The firm touch and reversal of roles sent shivers roaring through Ianto's veins and sparking at his nerve-endings, his very bones seeming to soften in response.

"Thank you, Jack" Ianto murmured, his accent thickened by the depth of his voice and Jack leaned in, his nose almost touching the young man's nape as he breathed his scent and whispered _"Ianto" _behind his ear with burning reverence_._ His hands slid down to where Ianto's long spine began to curve, fingers curling naturally across the back of slender hips and Ianto's body fed his aching mind with images of Jack's hands _right there_ while they made love, his own face buried in pillows which smelt of their combined sweat, muffling his moans as he gave over control in a way nobody else had or would ever see...

He leaned back into the touch even as he attempted to cool the heat burning low in his weary body, heat which also rolled from Jack in waves... Jack who was currently emitting a low purring sound, his grip tightening in testament to how hard he was resisting his urges. Sucking in a shuddering breath, Ianto cleared his throat before he felt he could speak clearly again, startling Jack from his own impassioned thoughts and he broke the connection, causing them both to mourn the loss of each other's warmth.

"So... this is the end of _Random Shoes_" Ianto said, sensing Jack's nod from behind him.

"I think that's the end of my acting career, too" he replied, amusement in his voice. "Undoubtedly for the best. I'm not cut out for the stage."

"I disagree, Jack... up there on the stage, large as life... you were sensational" Ianto murmured, smiling when Jack chuckled.

"I could always join a travelling show."

"And your special skill would be...?"

"Handsomest man alive?"

Ianto laughed, and to Jack, it was as if the sun had come up.

"Naturally" he replied. Jack tilted his head to gaze at Ianto's profile – something he could never quite get enough of – drinking in the slopes and angles of a pale face made even more striking in contrast to dark, thick lashes and the beginnings of shadowed stubble.

"Not so sure I could make that claim with you nearby" he murmured sincerely, all jest gone when Ianto turned to look at him.

"Ianto" Jack muttered, his eyes flicking down to Ianto's rosy mouth before finding his brilliant sky-blue eyes once more. "I'd like to go home."

Ianto inclined his head gratefully, relief clear in his expression. "I'll procure us train tickets to New York in the morning" he said, and Jack grabbed his hand tightly when he started to move away.

"No, Ianto... I mean yes, we'll have to go back to New York first, but I mean... I'd like to go _home_" Jack insisted, watching with silent joy as comprehension dawned on Ianto's face, his lips parting with surprise and hope.

"_Home_?" he breathed, Jack's smile widening in confirmation. Ianto's Adam's apple bobbed appealingly a few times before he nodded, genuine contentment lighting up his eyes until they glowed in the low light and the fresh memories held by that very room melted into insignificance.

"As you wish, Jack."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Right chaps and chapettes; time for a little fluff, don't you think? Well, if that's not your bag, _tough_. This here is wall-to-wall fluff and I won't apologise. Although if you don't like fluff, I wonder why you read this story at all...

It's quite sexy fluff, but once again it's not explicit. I have to reign back the hardcore pornographer in me because it just wouldn't work for this setting (or this rating) so you get subtle and polite instead. Subtle and polite is the English way.

Anyway, thanks as ever for the lovely reviews and suchlike, particularly those to which I can't reply because the author isn't logged in (Cags, I'm looking at you), but I appreciate it all so much. Also I hope all my fellow Whovians are enjoying the return of The Doctor as much as I am! I'm definitely seeing the benefits of this split series lark.

TTFN!

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Soon after leaving the theatre for the last time – an event which was followed by being forced to walk to the hotel at an hour when taxis were non-existent – Jack lay in a potentially unpleasant bed which was made warm, comfortable and inviting by the presence of Ianto Jones. It hadn't taken too much convincing for the younger man to join him, or for him to agree to a day off, especially as it was nearing three o'clock and the young man had barely slept the previous night. It did mean that booking the train to New York and a boat back to Britain would have to wait, but Jack had pointed out that Ianto was no good to anybody as an incoherent mess, and wrestled the Welshman into his bed with the lingering kiss they had both been yearning for since their reconciliatory embrace.

As exhausted as he was himself, Jack found that he had little desire to sleep just yet. Watching his lover's relaxed face, he silently reflected on his own behaviour and Ianto's too, wishing the younger man had felt able to enrol Jack's help in fighting his battles... and wishing even more so that he himself had found the strength to put a stop to it all before it had the chance to start. It was only now catching up with him how badly he could have been hurt during all those failed sabotage attempts. If only Ianto had talked to him... and if only he'd talked to Ianto.

They needed to be more honest with each other, it was as simple as that to Jack. They were both far too good at hiding, and had been perfecting the art over the space of years for their separate reasons, to the extent where they hadn't truly been aware that they were doing it. Jack tightened his hold on the shoulder blade his palm was curled around as if it had been made to fit, and firmly decided that those barriers needed to come down for them both. It was far easier said than done, but Jack didn't want secrets any longer. He _loved_ this man... and he wanted to know everything there was, even if that entailed the risks of exposing himself.

Choosing not to dwell any longer before he could talk through his emotions with Ianto, he reluctantly closed his eyes on the image of the young man's softly illuminated cheekbones and slipped into slumber. By the time wakefulness returned to him, he was pleasantly astonished to find Ianto not only still next to him, but fast asleep and in exactly the same position. A glance at the cheap bedside clock told Jack that it was coming up to ten, and he was more than a little amused by the fact that Mr. Early Riser had even been physically able to cling to sleep for so long. Jack's unconscious smile faded a little when he thought about all the reasons why Ianto had earned the rest, but still he settled back to wait for him.

Predictably, Ianto's eventual awakening was coupled with a startled jolt, a too-fast turn towards the clock and a long groan of discomfort as a body which had lain in the same position for seven hours made its objections known. Jack chuckled while the scene unfolded before him and Ianto glared, the expression lacking any venom.

"Have you _ever _slept in this long, Jones?" Jack asked softly, longing to rub hips lips across the younger man's harsh stubble.

"Perhaps before I was in long trousers, sir" Ianto replied, sliding a forearm across his eyes and arching his back. The muscles beneath the skin of his hair-sprinkled torso undulated until something softly popped, and the young man let out a satisfied moan, that brief sequence doubling Jack's heart rate as he unashamedly watched.

"I rather liked not having to sneak next door last night" he said, giving in to his desires and relishing the rasp as he leaned in to kiss his way across his lover's roughened jawline. "It was like being at home."

Ianto sighed encouragingly, tilting his head in invitation.

"We've yet to share a bed at home, sir" he pointed out, and Jack paused briefly with his lips pressed against Ianto's chin.

"You're right... such a lot of wasted time" he murmured, the edges of his mind becoming hazy as he nuzzled his face into Ianto's pulse point where his scent and heartbeat were strong.

Ianto's body responded quickly to the tender onslaught, running the knuckles of one loosely-curled fist down the length of Jack's arm and watching the fine sun-bleached hairs rise in response.

"Not wasted, Jack" he whispered, breath catching as Jack began sucking the ridge of his collarbone.

"No... I do appreciate a slow build-up" Jack purred, his skin burning everywhere it touched Ianto's. He flicked his tongue across his younger man's Adam's apple and felt the reactive quiver, his teeth brushing that pulsing flesh when he grinned.

Just as Ianto was happily accepting the idea of allowing Jack to make him feel very, _very _good, he was struck by uncomfortable reality in the form of a painfully full bladder and unclean teeth. Jack nipped at his earlobe just then and Ianto playfully shoved his head away, smirking in the face of his employer's pout.

"I should brush my teeth" he explained, "as should you, sir."

Jack sighed petulantly and Ianto pushed himself up from the comfort of the mattress, feeling the other man's eyes scanning his bare back.

"I'm naked" Ianto casually observed aloud as if it had only just struck him, and Jack made an appreciative noise from behind.

"You were too tired to climb into your pyjamas" he said with a hint of something resembling smugness. "And so was I" he continued, throwing back the duvet and putting all of his tanned flesh on show. They usually _did_ wake up nude if they shared a bed, but it was the first time they had shared a bed without having made love first. Ianto was glad that the level of intimacy which allowed him to feel quietly comfortable in his own skin even around an Adonis like Jack hadn't been affected by recent events.

"So I see" he murmured, trailing his eyes from Jack's toes to his blazing grin. "I'll return momentarily, sir."

With that Ianto slid off the bed and strode without a stitch towards the tiny bathroom, closing the door to preserve any remaining dignity which remained at risk. After quickly relieving himself, he washed his hands and splashed cool water on his face, lifting his head to watch errant droplets fall down his throat in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight of himself at his scruffiest; unkempt hair, thickening stubble blurring the edges of his normally immaculate sideburns, his untidy chest hair on full display without the blessed coverage of a crisp white shirt...

But a part of him always somewhat revelled in it. It was a _small_ part, buried deep, but discovered recently on catching sight of himself after an exhausting night with Jack. During that length of time between sneaking out of bed and returning – full dressed and groomed – with Jack's coffee, he could stare at himself and feel a sort of perverse pride in how _masculine_ he looked, how... animalistic. He felt it too when he was in bed with Jack, his physical pleasure heightened by the sense that what they did was, while certainly not wrong, deliciously beastly. It didn't feel exactly _pure_, as sex within the safe realms of religion-bound marriage was alleged by the church to be, but still it brought him a great sense of peace and a feeling of belonging. It was a world of their own.

With a start, he realised he was smirking foolishly at his reflection and reached for his toothbrush with a little shake of his head, his abdomen pressed against the edge of the ceramic sink in a subtle attempt to cool his ardour. Then, feeling as clean as he was going to without a bath (which he thought could probably wait if they weren't leaving the bed any time soon), Ianto opened the door to find Jack grinning on the other side of it.

"My turn" he murmured, taking great pains to brush against Ianto's body almost all the way down as he stepped past him.

Ever the gentleman, Jack left the door ajar while he urinated and proceeded to brush his teeth and gargle at a disturbing volume. Ianto climbed back into bed, despairing with affection until Jack returned, his smile having softened to something more sincere.

"I suppose we should talk" he said quietly, slipping under the covers next to Ianto and notably leaving a little space between them. Ianto cleared his throat and stared back at him, feeling an immediate change in the air.

"I'm not much of a talker, Jack... you know that" his valet replied, and Jack's smile became slightly mournful.

"Exactly" he said.

No, while Ianto was extremely eloquent, he remained a man of few words. Jack knew he himself could talk for Britain, and early on in their relationship he had blamed that for Ianto's quietude, but it simply wasn't natural for the young man to spill his feelings in the form of words. He could speak forever of facts and history, and even small talk at a push, but it had become increasingly obvious just how little he revealed of himself. Jack had wondered the previous night if Ianto would burst out in an explosion of angry emotion as he did back in New York after Jack's telephone call from Eugene, but the conversation had not taken such a passionate turn. Jack was loathe to tempt Ianto's brutal wrath, but it did seemed to be the only way to force him open.

The knowledge that Jack was guilty of saying very little while using a great deal of words was something he would also address. Later.

"How are you feeling, now?" Ianto asked eventually, Jack choosing to accept the deflection technique in the spirit of sharing rather than calling him on it.

"Used... hurt... but mostly guilty, and damn stupid if I'm honest" he admitted, fiddling with a corner of the duvet. "You?"

"I can relate to the guilt and the stupidity" Ianto replied with a grim smile.

"You're not the one who let a compulsive liar and potential murderer string you along with the power of flirtation alone" Jack mumbled, reminding himself yet again of how pathetic the situation was.

Ianto groped for a response, but found none. The cold fact was that Jack had been completely blind to James's strange and suspicious behaviour because he was attracted to him. And while Ianto didn't doubt his employer's feelings for him, it was still disquieting to know that Jack could be taken in by a pretty face and meaningless words even while in love with another person.

"I can't defend myself, Jones" Jack eventually continued. "There really is nothing I can say."

He glanced at Ianto with regret etched deeply into his face, and sighed heavily. "I thought I was getting better at this, but... perhaps not."

Unable to stand seeing Jack so defeated, Ianto leaned over him without a second thought and claimed his mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. Jack responded immediately, arms wrapping around the younger man's waist to pull him closer, and responding in a way which he hoped expressed to Ianto just how unbelievably grateful he was for the support he was still prepared to give.

"You are a _good man_" Ianto breathed against his employer's lips, tightening his grip on the older man's thick brunette hair. "We all make mistakes, Jack."

Jack took a moment to enjoy the intimate sharing of breath, the slope of Ianto's nose curved against the straight bridge of his own, and those warm fingertips massaging his scalp before he felt able to whisper "talking can wait, huh?"

"Talking can wait" Ianto agreed, relieved, and ran his tongue lightly along Jack's upper lip. He wasn't sure he felt able to say the words _I forgive you_ just yet, or even to hear Jack say the same for all the foolish things that he had done, but _this_... stripped bare and vulnerable, pressed so close and drowning in intimacy, _this_ was how they could communicate best. Ianto didn't want to talk; he wanted to feel.

Jack was gentle with him; more gentle than he had ever been, even during their first nights together. There was a reverence in his eyes Ianto felt the need to avoid, unsure how he could have possibly earned such adoration. Throughout their relationship, Jack had spent a great deal of time looking at him with awe, and when such occasions were born of the utilisation of his own intelligence, he could accept the sentiment gracefully. When that look became about love, however, it was somewhat more difficult to absorb without question, and Ianto was nothing if not aware of his own flaws – particularly as of the last twenty-four hours.

When Jack's light touch became too full of apologies that Ianto had heard and felt enough of, he stole control once more, slithering over Jack to shove him down into the mattress and just catching sight of an appreciative expression before he dipped his head to bite a fresh bruise into that golden skin.

Jack lay diagonally across the bed, his head hanging off the corner with sunlight warming his face. He stared at the sky through the window while Ianto worked his way down, down, losing himself in the clouds and beyond, with only his lover for company. When Ianto's mouth closed around him, Jack knotted his fingers with the ones which firmly gripped his hips and held on tight, anchoring himself to the moment even as he imagined a place where he and Ianto could be together in every sense without fear or pressure. Even if that was a universe away, he wanted to go there.

Too soon, that glorious heat was gone and just as Jack was vaguely expecting the careful intrusion of slick artist's fingers, a tighter, headier sensation closed around him. Startled from his position above the clouds, he stared up at Ianto as twin moans simultaneously escaped two pairs of lips. Ianto settled his hands on Jack's shoulders and began to rock, their eyes locked once more before a sudden burst of desperate energy forced Jack to sit up and curl around the Welshman, the tickle of Ianto's chest hair against his smooth flesh making him shiver.

Jack tilted his head with the intent to initiate a kiss, but stopped himself in the face of the intense expression in Ianto's darkened blue eyes – the colour of the open sea in a storm – and decided it would be a waste to do anything other than watch them flicker and glow. Instead they breathed into each other once more, teasing with a slow rhythm until the position became too much of a strain, and Ianto began to growl between groans.

Sensing what his needed, and feeling more confident in his passion knowing that he was being quietly guided in what his lover required, he pressed Ianto down onto his back and drove him hard towards the end, knowing that the time for anything less had well and truly passed. Ianto rose to his every movement, dragging Jack's mouth to his for the wet and frantic kiss Jack always craved when his sounds of pleasure became hoarse.

Within another few blissfully agonising minutes, while that sense of amplified solitude they felt together caused them to express their bliss without self-consciousness, they were shoved over the precipice one by one, that snapped tension taking a long while to completely dissipate when they were left breathless and raw. Ianto let his weightless head fall towards the window, seeing through glazed eyes the flecks of dust they had shaken from the bed dancing carelessly across rays of midday light as he struggled to calm his pounding pulse.

"I love you" a deep voice murmured in his ear, taking Ianto back to the moment he had revealed the same to Jack, and the way Jack had nervously stated that he didn't know how to do justice to his own feelings in words. Ianto had never _needed_ to hear it... but how sweet it was to have it confirmed so simply after a kind of intimacy which had already screamed it, the whisper laced with deep contentment in a moment when they were entirely each other's.

"I know" he replied, and slowly, the dust began to settle.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Happy Sunday, readers! A new chapter for you all, in which our boys go home and a new adventure is spawned. The next few weeks are going to involve a reasonably equal mix of Torchwood and the Jeeves stories, and larks will be had in spades - it's going to be rather fun, if I do say so! Apologies for all the angst that was never really planned. That'll teach me to attempt my own plotlines.

A special thank you to anybody who responded to the non-AU oneshot - 'Entry Wounds' - I uploaded last week. I got LOADS of favourites for it, if not many reviews, but I'm very grateful either way.

Feedback appreciated as always (I reply to all reviews and messages), and I hope you all enjoy. Pip pip!

* * *

The roar of the sea, once a source of discomfort for Ianto, soothed him as he leaned against the clean white barrier and silently bade New York goodbye. This time, the thought of six days alone with Jack on the open ocean amidst strangers his employer no longer felt his previously natural need to make friends with, was exceedingly agreeable. Their day of languid lovemaking at the otherwise not especially pleasant hotel had been punctuated by two enjoyable telephone calls – one that ensured them tickets back to New York the following day, and one for the boat to Britain – after which the two men bathed before Jack insisted on taking his companion to dinner.

The talk that they had firmly put off in favour of pleasure and simpler themes of conversation had not yet come up again, and Ianto had been loathe to initiate it. The last couple of days, with the journey to New York, hurried packing and one more evening in a city Ianto had begun to appreciate too late had been wonderful, with a heavy air of calm and contentment. But oh, he was looking forward to seeing his homeland once more...

He smiled involuntarily, thinking about the overcast skies of Cardiff, Jack's flat, the bay, the people... the simplicity of life that couldn't ever be accomplished in the heart of such a vast, modern city. To somebody like Jack, Wales must have seemed quaint and slightly twee, which was undoubtedly a large part of the charm. He supposed he must have settled there at the request of his Aunt Alice, but Ianto was unsurprised to realise that he wasn't actually sure of the reasoning. If nothing else, perhaps a good talk would at least force out some of the large details about their pasts which required airing sooner or later.

"What are _you_ thinking about, Ianto Jones? That's a devious little smile if ever I saw one" the object of his thoughts purred in his ear, sidling up as close as was appropriate on a public deck.

"Devious, sir?" Ianto questioned, feigning innocence.

"Don't toy with me, Jones" Jack warned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Actually sir, I was reflecting fondly on our return to Wales."

"Mmm... and we'll be live-in lovers. Can you handle that?"

Ianto turned to stare back at Jack, finding a glimmer of insecurity behind his bravado.

"It makes little difference, sir. We already shared a flat, all of our time – spare and otherwise – our meals, our drinks, and our trips... sharing a bed is hardly an enormous leap."

Jack laughed, his eyes moving from Ianto's face to the sea as joy lit up his face. It was remarkably easy to think that it could be like this forever, just the two of them and their secret love affair, all concerns forgotten when Jack smiled like that and his beautiful dimples made Ianto long to kiss him.

"I suppose not" he agreed, chuckling once more. "I was just having a chat with the captain. Fascinating man... composed mostly of brain. Like you, only grey-haired and twice the width."

Ianto laughed softly, still watching the profile of Jack's face.

"I wanted to borrow his rather snappy hat, but he said no."

"To add to your own collection of... _snappy_ hats, sir?" Ianto enquired, raising an eyebrow at the garment Jack held in his hands, the wind too powerful to wear it in the traditional manner. The Panama hat was not the traditional cream but bright white with a wide blue satin ribbon through the middle. It was hideous. It was so very Jack.

"Well, I rather enjoyed being Captain Jack for that fancy dress party, Jones... and I do believe you did too" Jack said, turning back to Ianto with a renewed look of roguery. "I thought it might be something to... _explore._"

Ianto's eyes widened to such an extent that Jack burst out laughing again, not used to drawing that kind of response from Ianto, even now.

Ianto was silent for a few moments before he schooled his features back into an attractively wry expression, and gazed at Jack with one eyebrow still cocked.

"If I can acquire a captain's hat for you sir, will you allow me to dispose of one of your more offensive pieces of everyday headwear?"

Jack narrowed his eyes, aware that Ianto was entirely serious.

"Do you think you can find me one, Jones?"

"I'm certain of it, sir."

"Will you address me as '_Captain Jack_' when I wear it?"

"If I must, sir."

"You must" Jack confirmed, pondering on the concept. "Okay Jones, it's worth the price."

"Thank you, sir" Ianto said, and in a flash he'd grabbed the Panama from Jack's hands and tossed it into the wind. Jack's mouth hung open with indignant shock, watching the object spin until it finally landed in the churning water to be dragged under the ship.

"Jones" Jack growled, turning to the man who was struggling with all his might not to laugh uproariously. "You... you're damn lucky I love you, you know that?"

"I am aware of that, sir" Ianto replied, and his smile was more than worth the loss of what Jack thought of as a particular dapper garment.

In the end, it was Jack who brought up the subjects that remained hanging over them, no matter how unobtrusively. On their second night on the ship he lay in the master bedroom of their split suite, arms folded behind his head as he openly stared while Ianto undress and meticulously hung up what would be needed the following day, dropping any laundry into the basket provided.

"We were being discussed earlier, Jones" Jack murmured, watching as Ianto froze in response, clearly fearful of the subject of any conversation in which they starred together.

"Not like that Jones, nothing to fear" Jack smiled, holding a hand out in invitation. Ianto glanced down at the pyjama trousers in his hand before placing them back in their drawer and sliding beneath the duvet next to his lover. He gazed expectantly at Jack, giving him permission to continue.

"When I was wandering around on deck, there was a couple on sun loungers... I heard them mention the name of the play and decided to stick around, trying to listen. They were talking about the newly-infamous James Harper, tricking the leading man into becoming _buddies_, as they put it, and the idiot actor's _butler_ saving the day."

Ianto huffed out a disbelieving laugh. "Butler, indeed" he mumbled, tiring of people being unable to make the distinction.

"Yeah" Jack replied distractedly. "So I thought maybe it was time to talk."

Ianto looked wary, but he had to concede that it was as good a time as any. "I'm not certain what can be said, Jack" he said honestly, knowing that nothing could be done but to revive their trust in one another. He trusted Jack with his life... but he didn't trust him not to believe his word against a pretty con-man. And that wasn't entirely Jack's fault.

"No... me neither" Jack admitted, fiddling with the edge of the duvet.

A few awkward, silent moments passed before Ianto asked the only question he could think of:

"Why did you have to leave Scotland, Jack?"

Jack turned sharply towards him and for a second Ianto thought he might have undone all of the renewed affection between them with only eight words... but then Jack's eyes seemed to clear, and he swallowed audibly.

"My parents died in the great war" he said quietly, his tone more sombre than Ianto had ever heard. "My father was killed early in the fighting, on the Western Front. I begged him not to leave. I held his hand so tightly the morning he left... all through my childhood I thought, if only I'd held on tighter, he wouldn't have been able to leave and he wouldn't have died..." Jack sighed heavily. "My mother... well, the family like to say she died of grief."

"Didn't she?" Ianto asked.

"Maybe. Whatever that means, but she was _so_ strong though... she was our rock. But... with no other family in Scotland, I was shipped off to Illinois to live with my Aunt Bridget. She was a good sort, Auntie Bridge... we weren't close, but it was better than the alternative. Aunt Alice had made it quite clear she didn't want me, thank God" Jack tried to joke, but the edges of his mouth were pulled downwards with the weight of his unhappy past.

"Aunt Bridget sent me to all the best boarding schools and stuck my inheritance in a fund for me, using her own cash to keep me going until I was old enough to look after my money. I didn't spend too much time with the old dear really, but she was good to me. And then... Aunt Bridget went and snuffed it too, when I was in my teens. She was getting on in years, so it wasn't a huge shock, but I felt... lost, I suppose. Finally, Aunt Alice got in touch and said she was _ready to take me on._"

Jack's expression turned dark and Ianto could just imagine the tactless letter, completely lacking in empathy for her grieving nephew. Irritation swelled within him on Jack's behalf, but he remained quiet and attentive.

"There were so many times when I wished I'd just stayed in America, Ianto. As soon as I turned up in Britain, she was taking over my life. She sent me to a university I wouldn't have chosen, tried to force me into a career in _banking_ and, as you know, has been systematically engaging me to girls for _years_" Jack sighed. "My parents... they were good people. They would never have allowed her to treat me the way she does."

"I'm so sorry for your losses, Jack" Ianto said sincerely, taking one of Jack's fidgeting hands in his own and trying to pass to him as much warmth and support as was possible. Ianto had long suspected that Jack's parents were deceased if not estranged, and that Jack's Aunt Alice had been a source of his unhappiness for a large portion of his life.

"I wonder... if this is the reason for your desire for attention. A lack of a stabilising influence... you think this is a flaw of yours but it could be merely upbringing. Children need far more care than you were able to receive."

Jack stroked Ianto's palm with his thumb, mulling over the suggestion. While it was true that he was naturally a bit of a show-off, it was equally true that he'd never had much outlet for that. Friends came and went, often tiring of him or – recently – him outgrowing them, but as for a constant loving source, one which was always there when he needed it most and would unequivocally listen to what he had to say... that died along with his parents.

"Maybe" he eventually replied, breathing through the sting that thinking about his mother and father always caused. "But even if that's true, I should have grown out of it long ago."

"Not necessarily. Not with nobody to guide you."

A smile grew on Jack's face; tentative and gradual, but it was there, and Ianto tilted his head inquisitively.

"I have somebody to guide me now, though... don't I, Ianto Jones?" he murmured, gazing into his lover's eyes. Ianto had to smile too. He had come into Jack's life as a professional stabiliser, but he knew that wasn't what Jack meant.

"I hope so, sir" he replied. "Do you... still think of going back permanently? If you could... settling in Wales must be like stepping back in time for you..."

"Would you miss me, if I did?" Jack asked cheekily, rewarded with a roll of Ianto's soulful eyes.

"I'd be concerned about your ability to function alone" he replied dryly.

"I know where I belong, Ianto" Jack said, his tone turning sober. "I was lonely for almost my entire life. Being in Cardiff, I've had some wonderful times... I've met... I've _loved_ people I never would have known if I'd just stayed where I was."

His intense gaze swivelled to Ianto, staring deep into his eyes as he murmured "and I wouldn't change that for the world."

Ianto searched his face for a moment longer before leaning over Jack and kissing him with all the passion stirring deep in his chest, causing it to tighten almost painfully. His hands came up to frame Jack's jaw and his lover responded immediately, moaning softly into the caress. The thought of never having met one another was intolerable. Ianto imagined a life entirely lacking in colour, vibrancy, and love... Jack's nightmare was an existence of emptiness, with a lack of care and companionship.

The brief, all-consuming need for an affirmation of tenderness faded as the kiss was broken, leaving the two men breathing heavily and embracing tight, Ianto half on top of Jack with their legs inexorably knotted together.

"Your parents are gone too, aren't they?" Jack said softly, running his fingertips through Ianto's hair. Ianto let out a deep breath, having known the subject would turn to himself, but not being fully prepared for it. Jack probably recognised that sense of early loss in him, since he knew it so well.

"Yes" he nodded, not putting any space between their entwined bodies. "My father, as you know, was also a valet. There was never any question of me choosing another profession."

"Did you want to?" Jack asked gently, not missing Ianto's dark tone.

"Perhaps. I had no chance to wish. My father... he pushed me too hard, in retrospect. We were never close. His mask was no mask, it was real... he genuinely lacked emotion, he had forced it out of himself long before I was born. He passed away when I was twenty. Heart failure. I hadn't seen him in months, and... I didn't visit him at his deathbed."

Ianto turned his face to press it into Jack's shoulder and take a collecting breath. Jack tightened his grip around Ianto's chest and kissed his cheek, feeling the young man's guilt as if it were his own.

"Your mother?" he asked quietly.

"My mother was taken from us a year later" Ianto replied in a flat voice which told Jack that it was a much as he was willing to say on the subject. His choice of words made Jack suspect that her story was more complex than that, and certainly more painful, and so he chose to let it go.

"You're far too young to have lost so much" he murmured, raining little kisses down the side of Ianto's face and around his ear. "You could have become that way, emotionless like your father..."

"I'm not like him" Ianto replied, a new strength in his voice. "Thankfully."

"All this explains your fierce independence too, your need to do things alone... who needs psychologists, right?" Jack said, overjoyed when Ianto chuckled and raised his head again. Ianto remembered what Eugene said, about the desire to fight his own battles due to a full-time career in servitude. He had agreed at the time, but looking back on it his father may have been the more prominent contributing factor.

"Quite so" he replied with a tentative smile. "Your supposed guardians neglected you, and mine tried to control me... similar problems with opposite results."

"Brilliant observation, Doctor Jones."

"Thank you, sir."

Jack laughed and kissed Ianto softly on the lips, wondering if now was the right time to also bring up the past lovers who had strained his trust to its limits. His fear of being left behind had yet to truly wane, and he was certain that a part of his subconscious mind wished to sabotage him every time he felt happy and settled before he was hurt once more by another person. But Jack wasn't going to let it win... not this time. Not with Ianto. Perhaps that subject could wait, for now.

"So you came back to Wales and met a handsome prince... and the rest is history" he said, feeling the rumble of Ianto's amusement.

"Something like that" he said. "After Torchwood London was destroyed... after Lisa was gone, I felt no desire to be in London any longer. I needed the comfort of my homeland."

Ianto pushed himself up on one elbow, hovering above Jack with one hand on his chest, pale skin a striking contrast to Jack's golden tan.

"Coming here... gave me meaning again" he said quietly, wetting his lips before whispering "_you._"

Jack let out a shuddering breath and kissed him deeply, forcing Ianto's lips apart with a fervour that bordered on frantic. Shifting his legs so that Ianto could settle between them, he hurriedly wrapped himself around the younger man in every way he could imagine and arched high against him. Ianto gasped against his lips before groaning, long and deep, and blindly swiped for the jar he knew he would find on the bedside table. It was quick, and hard, and Jack responded to Ianto's unrelenting thrusts by leaving long scratches along his spine, but it was precisely what the mood demanded. Slow and careful could wait; the passion between them had been set alight and nothing other than rough love would dampen it.

Jack shouted out his bliss shamelessly, jerking against the sensations of Ianto's skin rubbing against his all over. He forcibly ripped Ianto's own orgasm from him and watched him fall, catching him when he could no longer hold himself up and breathing in the scents of soap and sweat, of Ianto's own unique musk.

"One day, I'd like to be worthy of you" he whispered aloud, burying his nose in Ianto's short hair and smiling when he felt a kiss pressed to the hollow of his throat, telling him all he needed to know.

* * *

The remainder of the trip flew by too quickly. Personal bled into professional and Ianto found himself not fighting too hard to resist if they were alone and Jack chose to hold his hand, or kiss him, or tackle him whenever the mood took him. It was a safe bubble, with most of their time spent within their spacious suite or at dinner, where they swapped and shared food with unconscious familiarity. Occasionally Jack would get involved with a deck game or cards within the cosy casino, and Ianto would watch as a string of females vied for his attention, only to be disappointed when Jack showed utter disinterest.

Despite the enjoyability of the journey, Ianto was enormously relieved to see Britain come into view at long last. The sky was slightly greyer, the edges of the island shrouded in mist, but it was home.

Once they had stepped foot on dry land, it was another handful of restless hours before they reached Cardiff but there it finally was... and Ianto could honestly say he had never felt so complete as he did standing once more in his city with Jack at his side.

"You're very quiet, Jones" Jack said, looking over Ianto's shoulder and across the city centre he knew so well.

"Just... taking it all in, sir" Ianto replied, somewhat pleased that the day was overcast. It would have been inappropriate, somehow, for Cardiff to be unseasonably sunny. The Wales in his heart was always a little dull in weather, highlighting the beauty of the scenery and the people in contrast.

Even the flat felt like home, untouched but for regularly dusting in their absence. Ianto supposed it _was_ home; while he hadn't been there for long, they had been the most important few months of his life.

As the porters hauled Jack's cases up to their rooms, Ianto bid a quick, affectionate greeting to the coffee maker and dove into the pantry to grab some beans. The scent quickly permeated the flat and he heard Jack's contented sigh along with the creak of a protesting armchair as he flung himself into it.

"Feels good, doesn't it Jones?" Jack called, toeing off his shoes with little regard for their gloss.

"Very much so, sir" Ianto replied as he stepped back into the lounge with two larger-than-usual coffee cups.

"_You_ are an angel" Jack sighed, taking one from him with a wink and revelling in his first sip. "Come sit with me, Jones."

"Of course sir, allow me to pick up the post first."

A minute later, Ianto settled down opposite Jack with a pile of letters in hand, setting his coffee aside for the moment and beginning to read his way through. Jack watched him, knowing that Ianto could probably absorb all of the information within the entire small mountain of envelopes in a matter of seconds. The man was a marvel.

"Anything interesting?" he prompted eventually.

"A few minor bills which I shall had paid off before the end of the week, sir" Ianto replied, lifting a letter which could only have been from from his Aunt Alice by the look of that overly expensive cream paper.

"Your aunt wishes you to visit at the weekend."

"How does she know I'm back? She _always knows_" Jack sighed incredulously. "Can I get out of it, Jones? Anything on the calendar?"

"Well... it may not be ideal, but I have come across a wedding invitation, sir" Ianto offered, fingering the delicate paper.

"Whose wedding?"

"Mr. Williams and Miss Cooper, sir."

"Good lord, that's still ploughing forwards?" Jack exclaimed. "Well... it's certainly the lesser of two evils. We can manage that, I think."

"It seems wise, sir, given the note Mr. Williams has attached."

"Why, what does it say?"

"'_Make sure you get your arse to my wedding or I'll break your pretty face – Rhys'._ Charming young man, sir."

"Isn't he just?" Jack chuckled. "Threats of violence are everyday small talk to him. He is Welsh, after all."

Just as planned, Ianto's eyes narrowed and one of his brows twitched upwards.

"You wouldn't break my pretty face, would you Jones?" Jack teased, grinning his prize-winning grin.

"No sir" Ianto murmured at a dangerously low volume, "I can think of better things to do with it."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Pip pip, all! Bit of a lull in reviews, this week... was it something I said? *sad face*

I discovered a few days ago that there's a user on YouTube called wolfxbloed who seems to have uploaded not only all four series of Jeeves and Wooster in ten minute increments, but also some audio versions of the original texts, so I thought I'd share that fact for anybody who wishes to watch/listen to the inspiration behind my story.

Speaking of which, I was struck violently by inspiration earlier in the week and I'm in the process of planning another AU which I won't start writing/uploading until Jones and Harkness is over. It will be inspired by another BBC show, much more loosely than in this story, but it's a more well-known programme so my concern is that it's been done before... hopefully not how I plan to do it, at least. It will certainly be a lot darker than this, and I'm ludicrously excited about it. But for now, Jones and Harkness has my full attention until the end.

So read, review if you wish and enjoy as always.

* * *

For two frankly idyllic days, master and valet fell into a new and at once comfortingly familiar routine. On the evening that they arrived back in Cardiff, they went to bed as a fully-fledged couple and by the time Jack awoke the following morning, Ianto had already restocked the pantry and was waving a cup of black nectar beneath his nose. The only thing more blissful would have been for Ianto to still be lying in his arms – something Jack accomplished only after finishing his coffee and testing his ability to tackle with stealth. He was rewarded with an indignant cry of his name and various threats on his wardrobe if Jack dared to crease or stain his suit, but it was worth the struggle when finally, Ianto was coerced into a lingering kiss which made Jack quiver from the toes up.

Ianto knew that once the boat journey was over, with its dreamlike quality that seemed totally abstract from reality, he should have immediately (if gently) reinstated the rules their life together had come to run smoothly upon. But if Jack had seemed persuasive before, it was a quality which had doubled in its effect on Ianto since the air between them had become clear and contented.

Logically, he knew that allowing the personal and professional to overlap to a point where the two were indistinguishable would only cause more harm in the future. One day they would be separated, and while he wasn't entirely convinced that he could love Jack any more deeply than he already did, he could too easily become used to the sense of them being, as Jack worded it, live-in lovers – a situation that would be even more of an agonising wrench to pull himself away from. At the same time, allowing the chance to pass by could be an even worse fate...

"Stop thinking, Jones. You're spoiling the moment" Jack murmured against his lips, slipping both hands beneath Ianto's waistcoat.

"Sir... you have to eat" Ianto replied, his last threads of resolve weakening as Jack's hands spread across his ribcage, his touch hot through thin cotton.

"I _am_ eating" Jack smirked, nipping Ianto's lower lip in demonstration. "I could feast on you forever, Ianto Jones."

"You need something more substantial, sir."

"Oh, I don't know, Jones... you fill me up very nicely."

Ianto hid his chuckle with a huff and found the strength to squirm away, leaving Jack splayed across the mattress, his sinuous back and flawless buttocks on display.

"You're no fun" he sighed into a pillow, curling up as if to fall asleep once more.

"Sir, I insist that you find your way out of bed. Breakfast hour has long since passed even for you, and I need to change the sheets."

Jack turned his head to grin at him, the sight enough to weaken Ianto's very soul.

"And whose fault is that, Jones?"

"It was a joint effort" Ianto dryly replied, his left eyebrow betraying any attempt to remain impassive.

"Oh yeah" Jack purred happily, taking one more moment to nuzzle the bedclothes before dragging his sleep-warmed body from their embrace. "And what an effort it was" he added, simultaneously kissing Ianto's cheek and pinching his backside as he slithered by. It was all Ianto needed to conclude that it was worth losing yet another layer of the flimsy barrier between them, to see Jack so completely relaxed in himself.

* * *

It was another restful day before Rhys Williams called and begged in panicked tones for Jack to arrive at Ystradgynlais Hall early, desperate to speak to him – although apparently not desperate enough to tell either Jack or Ianto of his woes over the telephone. Ever the dutiful friend, Jack reluctantly agreed with a very Jonesian roll of his eyes and requested that Ianto start the packing.

"Do you think he's found out about Gwen and Knobby, Jones?" Jack pondered aloud, watching Ianto fold his socks (his valet didn't believe in balling).

"Perhaps so, sir. In my experience, unfaithful episodes of that kind are all too common these days and will always result in pain for the third party."

"What experience is that exactly, Jones?" Jack asked quietly, disturbed by the idea of Ianto being hurt in such a way as much as the image of Ianto himself being unfaithful. The latter seemed inconceivable, but still.

"A few of my more mature masters in London, sir. Some of them were not especially careful" Ianto replied with a grim smile. "I spent a great deal of my time fabricating tales of my employers' whereabouts for the sake of young ladies' hearts."

"You're a true gentleman, Jones."

"Thank you, sir. In that situation, somebody has to be."

"I'm surprised any of them let you go."

"I find that all too often, gentlemen of a certain age grow weary of a young valet, sir. They believe it emasculates them somehow to look ageing and tired in comparison."

"That I can believe" Jack chuckled, twirling a velvet trilby on his index finger; "not to mention your stunning good looks, Jones. They could make anybody feel inferior."

Ianto turned to him as he closed Jack's suitcase with a clean _click_, smiling knowingly.

"Even you, sir?" he teased, and Jack's expression softened into something intense and honest.

"Even me, Jones" he confirmed, watching Ianto's countenance falter with surprise. "Come on, Ianto... you're beautiful."

Ianto shifted a little uncomfortably and hauled Jack's case off the bed, tucking it neatly against the wall and brushing invisible dust from his lapels.

"I'll start supper, sir" he announced and moved to stride out of the room, pulled back almost comically mid-step by Jack's hand grasping his own. Taking a quick glance at the clock to check that it was gone six PM (not that he took those old rules particularly seriously any more), Jack stood up and cradled Ianto's face in both hands before kissing him deeply, pushing past Ianto's slight reluctance and parting the young man's lips with his tongue. Ianto's hands hung awkwardly at his sides for a moment before sliding around Jack's hips, his thumbs fitting perfectly within those twin warm dips.

Jack only ended the caress when Ianto began pushing towards him, chasing Jack's lips as he broke away before leaning away, looking vaguely embarrassed by his own sense of need.

"What's the occasion, sir?" he asked, his voice roughened by unexpected desire as he licked his lip.

"Can't a man sexually harass his valet without being questioned?" Jack asked with faux-irritation, a teasing smile playing about his lips. Ianto chose not to answer verbally, instead placing another quick kiss on Jack's lips – the first of the day initiated by him. Jack's beaming grin was such a fine reward.

* * *

By brunch time the following morning they were on their way to Ystradgynlais by car, Jack lounging in the passenger seat wearing obscenely styleless sunglasses while Ianto studied the road. It was quite freeing to be making the journey in something other than the confines of a train carriage, and he certainly felt soothed by the familiarity of the winding Welsh roads, but it did require a certain amount of concentration – something regularly scuppered by Jack shouting in his ear to make himself heard over the wind.

Ianto let out a breath of satisfied relief as the great hall came into view, nestled within a vast expanse of glorious greenness which was apparently so exciting to Jack that he was out of the car before the vehicle had stopped.

"I forgot how gorgeous this place is, Jones" he announced, spinning on his heel in the gravel as Ianto handed over the car keys to the Coopers' personal driver, in order for it to be taken to the private garages.

"Perhaps sir was too busy avoiding Miss Cooper to pay much attention to his surroundings?" he suggested, following Jack pace or two behind. Jack laughed and turned to face him, striding backwards with utter disregard for the placement of his feet.

"Precisely, Jones. But young Gwen is no longer in a position to marry me" he grinned, suddenly stopping and leaning close to Ianto as he continued in a conspiratorial tone; "and I'm not in a position to marry her either, but that's our little secret."

Ianto smiled down at the crushed stone driveway, feeling heat pool in the tips of his ears and knowing that Jack was staring at him with all of his affection.

"Oi, Jackie! 'Bout bloody time!" a thickly accented voice bellowed from the main doorway of the hall, and the slap of Rhys' hand against his friend's spine almost shoved even a man as broad and muscular as Jack into Ianto's arms. Not that he would have minded.

"Jingo!" Jack exclaimed, a trained eye noting that his toothy smile was slightly forced. "What's all the panic about them, old man? You'd better have a good excuse for dragging me down here early when I could have stayed in bed all day."

Ianto's left eyebrow twitched slightly, but he reigned it in.

"Not here, Harkness" Rhys hissed, glancing around with the look of a condemned man. "Come on, we'll talk in your suite."

Jack threw a bemused look at his valet before the trio entered the house and ascending the grand stairwell, Ianto taking in the decades of Welsh family life and idyllic views which adorned the walls with the pride of a man who adored his country.

Rhys jostled them into a vast bedroom, urging Jack to sit in one of the armchairs while he perched on the edge of the one opposite, Ianto taking up his standing position behind his master.

"Are you ever going to spit it out, Jingo?" Jack prompted, frowning in the face of frayed nerves in such a stocky man – both physically and emotionally – as Rhys Williams.

"Yeah, yeah... it's just... I'm... I'm bloody terrified of Geraint Cooper" Rhys blurted, and Jack would have laughed if he didn't look so painfully sincere. "I need you and Jones to help me. A week ago I realised I'd have to make a speech at the wedding reception... and that Geraint Cooper and John Ellis would both be there! Ellis is just as bloody terrifying, if not more..."

"John Ellis?" Jack queried, and Ianto leaned down slightly.

"Mr. Ellis is a close friend of Sir Cooper's, sir" he informed him in hushed tones. "A formidable character and the leader of a notoriously radical political group which calls itself Miracle Day."

"Miracle Day?" Jack snorted derisively.

"Indeed sir, the premise of which is solid enough but the execution is weak and contradictory, if I may be so bold."

"You may, Jones."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."

"Excuse me!" Rhys cried indignantly. "If you two could stop flirting, I have a bloody problem here!"

Ianto slid his default stoic expression back into place while Jack looked utterly unrepentant.

"Your arse is on the line too, Jack" Rhys continued, pointing an accusing finger at his friend. "You're not exactly in Geraint's good books after your last visit here, and he hates me even more than he did before for inviting you to the wedding!"

Jack hissed through his teeth, having completely forgotten about the circumstances of his leaving Ystradgynlais Hall last time. Everybody in this house, including Gwen, thought that Jack had cavorted with one of the kitchen staff and broken Gwen's heart... he couldn't blame them for disliking Rhys by association.

"Fair point" he conceded. "Avoidance tactics on red alert, then. But why did he hate you in the first place?"

"Oh, you know these bloody snobs... I'm not posh enough for the saintly Coopers and their only daughter. They think I'm a bit of rough from the wrong side of the valley. But Gwen likes me for who I am so I'd _love_ to tell Geraint to just bugger himself... I cannot _stand_ the blighter... but I haven't the nerve."

"Where _are_ you from, Jingo?" Jack asked, realising he didn't know. Rhys let out a regretful little sigh and answered in an embarrassed tone, "Splott."

"Splott" Jack repeated quietly, nodding in sympathy. He was aware of the town by reputation – enough to know it wasn't looked upon favourably by the privileged classes.

"I believe property developers pronounce it _Sploe_, sir" Ianto pointed out, and Jack had to hide his laughter with a small forced coughing fit.

"They would. It's a bloody disgrace out there, but I've left that all behind. I shouldn't be defined by where I was born!"

"Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir" Ianto suggested, a hint of satisfaction on his otherwise impassive face which Jack recognised immediately for what it was.

"That was quick even for you, Jones" Jack grinned with obvious pride.

"Thank you sir, but it's simple psychology. It occurs to me that we do not fear those whom we truly despise. The tactic, therefore, is to cultivate a kind of lofty contempt for those in question, rendering any imagined threat redundant."

"How do I do that?" Rhys huffed.

"You simply fill your mind with scornful thoughts of them, sir" Ianto replied.

"So... really, I'd be playing them at their own high-and-mighty game?"

"Precisely, sir."

"Jones... that's... brilliant! You're a marvel!"

"Thank you, sir."

Rhys beamed, clapping his hands together. "Right, well, that should be easy enough! I think I'll start with the fact that Ellis' moustache looks like somebody squashed a fly on his upper lip..."

"That's the spirit, Jingo" Jack enthused.

"Is that how you cope with Jack, Jones? Thinking of all the things you hate about him until he becomes tolerable?" Rhys teased, rising from his armchair and grinning mischievously.

"Thanks for that" Jack mumbled, his fine mood suddenly diminished somewhat.

Ianto fought the urge to place a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder, instead straightening his own and stating; "what I hate about Mr. Harkness would last me less than a minute, sir. He is the finest man I know."

Jack's glee came roaring back and he smirked smugly at Rhys, whose eyebrows were raised in disbelief.

"Yeah, well, he's paid to say that" he said dismissively. "Anyway, listen Jack – keep out of Geraint's way, alright? And Gwen's, too. No showing off around the place."

"Do I show off?" Jack asked, tilting his head back to gaze at Ianto, who looked down at him apologetically.

"Just a little, sir."

"I'll come and get you for dinner. Geraint and Mary don't especially want to see you, or me for that matter, so we'll be having ours in the smaller dining room and you can help me with this list. Just... stay out of trouble."

"Scout's honour" Jack said, raising three fingers.

"You were never a scout!"

"It's the thought that counts."

Rhys huffed one last time in a signature gesture of his and left them alone, the cogs of his mind moving almost audibly as he contemplated Ianto's suggestion.

"He's right, Jones... you really are a marvel" Jack agreed when the door was closed, hanging his head off the edge of his seat again and staring up at the young man. Even upside-down from two feet below, he was beautiful. Ianto smiled back, watching as one of Jack's hands snaked teasingly up his chest and wrapped around his vermilion tie, tugging it gently until Ianto bent to him. Their lips met in an awkwardly-angled kiss but Jack moaned still, fondling the silk between his fingers, and Ianto sighed with delight despite himself.

"That's not for helping Jingo, Jones... that's for standing up for me" Jack murmured, finally allowing Ianto to rise and tuck his tie back into his waistcoat.

"It was my pleasure, sir" Ianto purred, a small crease forming in his brow as a thought occurred to him, before he continued. "With your permission, I wonder if it would be feasible for me to drive to Crickhowel for the evening... since we're in Powys already."

"Crickhowel? Why?" Jack asked, motioning for Ianto to seat himself opposite him, with which Ianto complied.

"I was invited many weeks ago to attend an evening at the Harwood Society sir, a sort of club for valets and butlers all over Wales. We were in New York at the time, according to the postage mark, but tonight one of the meetings occurs, and it would be a chance for me to spend a little time with my colleagues. I've failed to visit the club since my first month in your employ."

"Oh, I see... yes, of course you can go!" Jack smiled, refusing to appear desperately needy by seeming anything other than encouraging.

"Thank you, sir" Ianto smiled, happiness glowing from him. "In all honesty, I only recalled the invitation this afternoon."

"You're telling me _you_ forgot something?" Jack teased, his eyebrows arching upwards.

"I lead a life filled with distraction, sir" Ianto replied, his smile morphing into a leer which still looked bizarrely polite.

"Is that what you talk about at this club, then? Your masters and how they get under your feet?"

"Occasionally, sir. More often than not we speak of things other than our work, to remind ourselves that we still have lives" Ianto replied, and Jack looked contrite.

"Sorry, Jones" he murmured, visibly wincing.

"No apology necessary, sir. I meant nothing negative by it" Ianto replied, tilting his head with an affectionate gaze. "Especially as I am particularly fortunate in my position. Many of my colleagues are not allowed the level of freedom that I possess."

Jack's grin returned, brightening the room..

"Besides which" Ianto continued, "the majority of our discussion about masters is done in the book."

"The book?" Jack frowned.

"The Harwood Society book. It was where I researched you, sir. We write important information about our employers so that the next employee might be educated in their history and ways beforehand."

"Are you saying that this book contains my charming eccentricities, Jones?" Jack gaped, only partially outraged.

"Not from _me_, sir" Ianto defended himself, "I believe my only entry thus far stated that you showed promise."

"Oh. That's... good. I think" Jack replied, one brow raised.

"The book is for facts, sir, not opinions."

"Mm. Will you be updating my chapter tonight, Jones?"

"Perhaps, sir. Would you prefer glowing praise, or honesty?"

Jack growled, aiming a gentle strike at Ianto's ankle with his foot.

"Both!" he retorted, chuckling when Ianto smiled in victory.

"As you wish, sir... so that your next valet knows what awaits him."

Jack tutted loudly, knowing through the ache that the very idea inspired within him that Ianto was teasing.

"Don't joke about that, Ianto Jones. I won't let you leave my side" he said gently, brushing the toe of his shoe lightly across the flesh he had previously kicked.

Ianto left that subject alone, knowing it was discomforting and treacherous and there would only be one outcome, so instead he gave a small closed-mouthed smile that said _whatever you want to believe, Jack._

"The club book might also have some details which could be used by Mr. Williams as fuel against Sir Cooper and Mr. Ellis, sir" he said, the change in subject slightly jarring. "Both of them have employed valets in the past; perhaps it contains some evidence towards certain dealings or facts which might further diminish your friend's fear."

Jack swallowed down a sudden sense of disappointment at Ianto's deflection and plastered on a fresh, encouraging smile.

"Then investigate away, Jones! I know you'll find something" he declared with a wave of his hand.

"I'll try my best, sir. I shall be back by ten... to tuck you into bed" Ianto said, his voice dropping in timbre as he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his baby blue eyes.

"_Tuck _me into bed?" Jack queried, eyes sparkling.

"_Tuck_ you, sir." Ianto confirmed.

"Jones, are you suggesting we _bunk up _in the Cooper household?" Jack gasped, his jaw dropping open with mock outrage.

"I feel, sir, that it would be a crime not to take advantage of thick wooden doors with sturdy locks."

Feeling that unidentifiable inward itch leave his body as quickly as it had come, Jack beamed with glee in the face of his valet's devious mind. An illicit kind of shiver prickled at his skin, and everything that was too difficult to think about was shoved firmly into its mental box to be viewed at a much later date.

"Oh, you can bet I'll be waiting up for you, Ianto Jones..." he growled, content for now to take only what he could freely have.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

What ho! Early chapter, anyone? I'm going to be in London until Tuesday (to see Stephen Fry for the second time - yes, like Jack, I'm a show-off), and while I will have access to a computer I can't guarantee I won't be having too much fun to forget about uploading. So I'm playing it safe, but I'll be able to reply to messages and reviews on my phone.

I finally succumbed to a LiveJournal account and when I feel brave enough to work out how to use it, I'll be uploading all my stories there as well. My name on there is, as always, furiousdee (bastard capital letter-hating sites), should you wish to befriend me.

Farewell for now, sweet minions!

* * *

Driving through Powys at dusk reminded Ianto yet again of just how gloriously beautiful his homeland was. The roads were, as usual, mostly empty and the only company for miles was sheep, more sheep, and the occasional pheasant. He found himself smiling foolishly into the horizon, wondering whether he had ever felt so free in his life. A light mist was descending on the endless greenery; he would need the more powerful headlights on the way back to Ystradgynlais, but for the moment it was clear enough to see without them. Besides, to Ianto, the changeable weather was a vast part of Wales' charm and he desired the full experience.

The building which housed the South Wales branch of The Harwood Society was as neat and unpretentious as the gentlemen who gathered within it, and Ianto took a certain kind of joy from handing Jack's car over to a younger, greener valet. At Ystradgynlais, the family's driver had taken the car from Ianto on Jack's behalf – tonight, Ianto was his own master.

"Young Mr. Jones!" a chorus of voices greeted him as he stepped into the foyer, around forty other men loitering with straight backs and muted suits.

"Gentlemen" Ianto nodded, a bright smile gracing his face. He had been _Young Mr. Jones_ ever since he had his first uniform cut, as _Mr. Jones_ was his father. Ianto had a feeling he would remain so even when he was fifty years old. He shook hands with several people he recognised and a few he didn't, aware that many of them had known his father and allowing them to tell him little anecdotes he'd heard a hundred times with an indulgent, detached expression.

"Well now, it looks as if that's everyone" a man Ianto recognised as Mr. Dekker, the appointed patriarch of the society, announced. "Shall we adjourn to the dining room, gentlemen?"

Supper was an exceedingly civilised affair, the group split between four large round tables. Ianto sat between two valets similar to his own age and after the food was consumed they discussed literature, history, music – he was in cultural heaven.

"Of course, musical theatre is killing off true stage drama" Mr. Davidson scoffed, his lip curled with disdain.

"Oh, undoubtedly. There's nothing less worthy of gracing the boards" Mr. Smith replied, at which point Ianto felt it necessary to interject.

"I disagree, gentlemen. Musical theatre brings the very concept to a broader audience and opens their minds to further adventures into the live acting world. If anything is going to kill stage drama, it will be film. Even then, I find it unlikely."

The men either side of him fell silent, before Mr. Smith raised an eyebrow and asked with suspicion, "who are you working for again, Mr. Jones?"

Ianto slightly resented the implication that he couldn't disagree with his peers without outside influence, but he took a moment to lift his chin, readying himself for their reactions when he stated quite clearly "Mr. Harkness."

"You're _still_ with him, Mr. Jones?" Mr. Dekker interrupted, having suddenly turned to Ianto from the opposite side of the table on overhearing Jack's distinctive surname.

"Shouldn't I be?" Ianto replied – somewhat cheekily, he realised with an inward wince.

"Nobody has lasted that long with Mr. Harkness" an ageing butler said gravely.

"He can be a challenge" Ianto replied honestly, "but he is a good man. I believe that I have influenced and enhanced his gentlemanly side with some success."

He grinned, allowing himself a moment to feel justifiably proud. A few of his colleagues looked unconvinced, while others seemed impressed. The conversation around him had died down somewhat as he became the centre of attention.

"I hear he's thicker than two short planks" Mr. Davidson stated bluntly in all seriousness, and Ianto shook his head.

"Not at all, he is vastly intelligent and his love for the simpler things in life should not be a reflection of his entire character."

"Mr. Jones, he has been hiring valets since he was twenty-one and I've yet to hear such praise from _any_ of your predecessors" Mr. Dekker said, one eyebrow firmly raised.

"Then I've simply been successful where they have not, Mr. Dekker. Mr. Harkness and I are simply an excellent match. I wished for a challenge, and I believe he required somebody a little closer to his own age to stabilise him without making him feel like a chastised child."

Ianto knew he was probably pushing his luck, as there were surely men in the room who had tried and failed with Jack, but he wasn't going to apologise for his own victory. He was telling the truth in saying that he and Jack were a fine match – _in every way, _his mind added – and they always had been despite their little disagreements. Although the last time he'd attended a Harwood Society meeting had been only a month after meeting Jack, they already had an intense working relationship by then and were easy companions. It had been instant, and it had grown. And grown, _and grown..._

Two or three men chuckled, while a couple more huffed indignantly and turned back to their own conversations. Ianto was relieved.

"Well then, Mr. Jones, I must congratulate you for working your magic on a previously lost cause" Mr. Dekker said, nodding his acknowledgement. "I hope to see for myself one day precisely how you have wrangled a gentlemen out of him."

"Blind determination, Mr. Dekker" Ianto replied, smiling again with his triumph.

"Perhaps an addition to the book is required?" the older man suggested, and Ianto remembered his promise to look up Geraint Cooper and John Ellis' past entries. _You really are forgetful today, Ianto_ he admonished himself.

"Absolutely" he said with conviction, and Mr. Dekker motioned for one of the trainee butlers to fetch it.

The book was the one truly ostentatious reflection of the society; thick, with embossed leather and gold-edged pages. Ribbons in varying colours marked different areas of South Wales, and within those were the hand-written profiles and notes of all masters who hired from the agency which The Harwood Society worked with.

Ianto slid his glass aside and lowered the enormous volume gently onto the table in front of him, running his fingers over the edges of the paper until he found Jack's section. He swiftly re-acquainted himself with the few facts and past notes; those mentions of the elusive Doc Smith, of other friends' names he recognised, of engagements and Aunt Alice and absolute drunken laziness. Ianto had to smirk at the last entry, written in his own hand: _Mr. Harkness shows great promise as a master and as a gentleman. Life with him is never dull._

Just as he looked up to ask for a pen, one was placed in his palm and he nodded at the frightened-looking young man in thanks (remembering when he had been in such a position for his father's gatherings). After a few moments of thought, he began to write:

_'Mr. Harkness now displays dignity, humility, civility and conscience. His behaviour has calmed dramatically, and since employing myself he has drifted from previous negative influences (most notably Dr. Owen Harper and gin). Mr. 'Doc' Smith has not been mentioned more than once or seen at all during our time together. Mr. Harkness also limits his marriage engagements to as few as is polite, and calls on my aid when he finds himself in need of it (the two often correlate).'_

_'Since my appointment to Mr. Harkness, he has become entangled with Miss Gwen Cooper, Lady Toshiko Sato and 'Miss Harriet Derbyshire' (true name unknown). All three were dealt with by myself in ways that I felt would result in the least emotional strain for Mr. Harkness.'_

An often-silent, very childish, and extremely wicked part of Ianto's mind longed to add '_Mr. Harkness and I have become such close companions that we spend many of our nights buggering each other silly'_, but he thought it unwise. That rogue idea also made him realise just how heavily Jack was influencing him in turn; that the personality changes were not as one-sided as his entry implied. He felt relaxed in himself, even here – already he had disagreed with important members of The Harwood Society, spoken in front of a rapt audience without self-consciousness and been downright cheeky in front of Mr. Dekker. Without Jack's infectious confidence, he wouldn't have felt able to do any of it. The sudden memory loss, however, he could live without. _I'm all for relaxation, but the day I become as skittish as Jack..._

_'I do not hesitate to call Mr. Harkness a friend as well as a master. He treats me with the utmost respect and requests my opinion on any given subject, usually accepting my advice with good grace. I have no intention of leaving his employ for as long as he requires me'_

With that, Ianto screwed the lid back onto the pen with a sense of satisfied finality. He took a moment to scan his assessment once more, before glancing around at the otherwise occupied colleagues surrounding him and quickly flicking his way to backwards to Geraint Cooper's chapter. While neither Geraint nor John longer kept a valet any longer, Ianto knew for certain that they had done in the past and from what he had heard, they were both fierce and tenacious men, intensely aware of their place above 'the help'. As such, there _had_ to be some unsavoury clues to be discovered...

Ianto was disappointed by the lack of general information on Geraint Cooper. It looked as though he had the same valet for thirty years, one who was loyal and wrote only the barest of reviews – none of which were useful, so Ianto continued onwards to John Ellis. The details on Ellis were also scant, but on scanning the words, there it was – an absolute gem of a fact, almost overlooked, that could prove invaluable. _That wouldn't go down well with his beloved Miracle Day_, Ianto thought with a badly-suppressed grin. He wasn't sure how the information could be used, but certainly it would eliminate any fear of him for all concerned if drastic action was required as the wedding loomed.

Ianto had to wonder why he willingly became so involved in the little problems of Jack's acquaintances. It had been a pattern right from the start, as if Ianto partially belonged to any of his master's friends by association. The truth was, whether it completely exasperated him at times or not it was... _fun_. When he saved Jack or Jack's friends in ever-elaborate and always comical circumstances he was playing at being a young man – something he'd never had much of a chance to do. _That's how Jack makes me feel... youthful and carefree. _

With his job done, Ianto closed the book once more and leaned back in his seat, accepting a small measure of brandy for the road. As much as he enjoyed being with the other members of The Harwood Society, he felt a tugging urge to be with Jack again and as the evening wound down, he made his excuses with a promise to attend more regularly.

The drive back to Ystradgynlais was again an enjoyable one, the night calm aside from Jack's car disturbing the mist, and Ianto sighed with contentment as the hall came into view. The Cooper household was quiet but for the low sounds of piano-playing and conversation; Ianto knew that Jack wouldn't be part of whatever casual festivities were occurring tonight, and so silently ascended the winding staircase to his master's room.

Though not long after ten, he found Jack asleep with a bedside lamp still on, not in his usual splayed disarray of limbs but curled protectively around one of his pillows. Ianto made sure to lock the door behind him and knelt down beside the bed, taking a moment to look at Jack's relaxed face in dim lamplight before lightly kissing his lips, then his nose, then his forehead until finally his master stirred.

"Ianto" Jack sighed with a grin before even opening his eyes.

"We would be in a great deal of trouble had it been somebody else kissing you then, sir" Ianto replied dryly, and Jack playfully swiped at his shoulder, now gazing back at his lover.

"I don't accept kisses from anybody else, Jones... and nobody has ever kissed me like _that_" he said, his stare as warm as his sleep-softened skin.

Ianto smiled back, feeling oddly shy as he took Jack's wandering hand.

"Long evening, sir?"

"Oh yeah... Jingo never stops talking... even whilst eating" Jack groaned. "But we spent a good couple of hours thinking up things about Cooper and Ellis that he can silently mock. He already seems so much more confident, you know... happier. You have that effect on people, young Mr. Jones."

Ianto's eyebrows instantly rose and Jack's expression turned questioning.

"Sorry, sir... just a strange coincidence; the other members of The Harwood Society call me 'Young Mr. Jones'."

"I'm sure they always will, what with your pretty little baby-face" Jack teased, succeeding in prompting one of Ianto's best eye-rolls.

"So, did you find anything out about Ellis?"

"Yes, sir."

"Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"I believe it to be in your best interests if you remain ignorant of the fact for now, sir. It is only to be used should the situation become severe."

"I see... and did you update my chapter in this book of yours?"

"Yes, sir. As favourably as you deserve."

"Uh-oh" Jack smirked, before kissing Ianto's lips. "Come on, get into bed before you ruin your knees."

Ianto stood and quickly divested himself of his jacket, tie and shoes, finding himself tugged down onto the mattress before he could do anything more. He knew that Jack loved peeling him out of his uniform, and as they kissed, he felt his employer's fingers deftly unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt.

"What was it you said about taking advantage of thick doors, Ianto Jones?" Jack murmured, his breath hot against Ianto's ear as he cascaded kisses from chin to shoulder.

"Just that – the rest is up to you tonight, sir" Ianto replied, a soft moan escaping his lips when Jack sucked at his throat in his excitement over being offered free reign on a plate. He lifted his achingly handsome face and stared hard at Ianto, pupils blown wide and cheeks already flushed.

"Damn the sir... say my name" he demanded in a growl, and Ianto smirked, watching the muscles in Jack's jaw tighten as he struggled to restrain himself from simply attacking.

"Jack" he moaned, thickening and deepening his accent for the full aural assault. His lover growled breathlessly and dipped his head to Ianto's chest, nuzzling the dark hair before biting hard on a nipple.

_Ahh, it's going to be one of _those_ nights_, Ianto thought with illicit delight, relaxing completely as he relinquished any semblance of control. _When did it become so very easy to give all of myself to Jack? _

"Stop thinking. Relax" Jack's hoarse but affectionate voice cut into his thoughts and Ianto laughed, lifting his hands in surrender as Jack tugged open his trousers.

"I'm all yours, Jack" he murmured, catching the intense pride in his lover's face before it morphed into a filthy grin.

"Yes you are, Ianto."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Evening chaps and chapettes! The wedding fiasco continues this week, with the focus on Jack since Ianto was given the spotlight last Sunday - do let me know if you're getting bored. Actually, don't, because I'm not changing the story. Just deal with it.

Thanks as ever for all the lovely reviews; can I hit 500 before chapter 40? That's up to you, my lovelies...

I hope everybody enjoyed the Doctor Who finale as much as I did (which is A LOT). The spectacular win of DW does help to soften the blow of the enormous motorway pileup that is Miracle Day...

TTFN!

* * *

Mid-morning the following day saw Jack fumbling with the hinges of a striped folding chair, gingerly lowering his backside into it when he was certain that he wouldn't fall through, and settling back to actively participate ("watching is an activity!" he had argued) in a friendly game of rugby between two local teams – with Rhys valiantly defending Ystradgynlais. Flinging himself into the spirit of things, Jack had – much to Ianto's dismay – decided to wear his rugby jersey, to which he had treated himself after a couple of years of residence in Wales. The matches he attended were almost exclusively between friends of his as opposed to the somewhat more official kind, but he insisted on wearing it nonetheless. The fact that he had topped off the image with stark white trousers, white shoes, a white blazer and a white trilby had made Ianto physically wince as the outfit glared in the sunlight, while Jack smirked in victory.

The torture didn't last long, however, as Jack consented for Ianto to remain at the house and aid the Cooper staff with the final wedding preparations. Ianto had seemed at once relieved and disappointed, the latter undoubtedly stemming from his inherent national desire to watch a spot of rugby. However, it was for the greater good that he stay. Jack required space to think, and he struggled to do so with his young valet close by.

Ianto had seemed somewhat changed when he returned from his meeting with The Harwood Society. While his general aura of relaxation had been developing and deepening gradually since he became Jack's valet, it appeared to have taken on an entirely new dimension in the space of a few short hours. Jack had learned to gauge Ianto's moods with a good degree of accuracy, especially in the bedroom, but he'd been surprised at the young man's total submission when he arrived back at the house. By the darkened eyes and promising smile, Jack had expected a battle, but Ianto gave him free reign and advantage was well and truly taken.

The smile Ianto had given him as they lay beside each other afterwards, battling sleep in favour of maintaining emotional awareness, had been freer than Jack had ever seen, but alongside his utter ecstasy at being the cause of that he felt the swell of a dark foreboding rise. It had been a constant – if usually tolerably understated – companion to their relationship, and as their bond tightened the sickening awareness of cold logic became increasingly difficult to ignore.

With that emotion came anger; anger that he couldn't openly love Ianto, that they couldn't stay together forever, get married, that they had to hide... that it would come to an end sooner rather than later, in order to fit a social mould carved out for him by his position of privilege. He didn't want the responsibility of settling down and continuing the Harkness name, though he felt the weight of it. He couldn't claim that he didn't _care _about that bloodline, though – the blood of his beloved parents – otherwise the knowledge wouldn't feel quite so cumbersome. He_ did_ care about that... and it felt like a betrayal to the man he couldn't keep.

"Hello, Jackie" a familiar voice spoke softly from above him, and Jack was startled from his reflection as he glanced up into the wide smile of Gwen Cooper, her face shaded by an enormous cream hat which matched her graceful outfit.

"Well hi, Gwen!" he replied cheerily, fiddling somewhat nervously with his cuffs as she settled down in the empty seat beside him. "Erm... I didn't expect to see you... except at the wedding, of course... I don't imagine you're my biggest fan..."

Gwen cut him off with a laugh, flapping a hand with her eyes fixed on Rhys as he trudged across the field before them.

"Oh Jack, stop worrying! I forgave you long ago; we were never meant to be... it was just an infatuation. I'm a bit embarrassed about it, to be honest" she replied with a sheepish smile. Jack knew she didn't mean it as an insult, and returned the expression.

"You're right, we're not made for each other. Jingo's the man for you. You can have a normal life with him. Don't let it drift, okay?"

Gwen met his eyes and her smile widened.

"I won't" she promised, looking back at her fly-half fiancé. "Say Jackie, have you noticed anything different about Rhys?"

Jack glanced out at the field, watching as his friend picked a fight unnecessarily with the enormous scrum-half of the opposing team. Eventually, the slightly lethargic referee dragged them away from each other but Rhys continued to scowl, his head held high as he resumed his position.

"Well... it's not like him to be so aggressive. That was borderline homoerotic" he replied cheekily.

Gwen shot him a withering look before returning her gaze to Rhys.

"He's changed, Jackie. He's suddenly so sure, so confident... and it's come on practically overnight! Just yesterday he was still running and hiding from my father and Uncle John if he so much as _sensed_ them approaching... this morning he practically wrestled my father to the ground for the last rasher of bacon!"

Jack grinned smugly, knowing that Rhys' renewed chutzpah was thanks to Ianto's simple and ingenious suggestion. The sudden and familiar warmth he felt for the young man outweighed his previous melancholy, and once again his darker thoughts were relegated to the back of his mind. From the corner of his eye he watched Gwen glowing with pride, and felt a little guilty about the way he had previously thought of her. She had grown up a great deal since last he saw her... and so had he.

"You're going to be very good for each other" he said decisively, giving her hand a firm squeeze.

"He'll certainly be good for _me_" she replied. "He knows about Owen Harper, by the way."

Jack's eyes widened, and she huffed softly in the face of his guilty expression. "I _know_ he told you, Jackie. It was a mistake and I didn't want to start our marriage off on a lie... so I told Rhys and he forgave me."

"Course he did. Who wouldn't come back to you?" Jack said warmly.

"_You_" Gwen replied, her tone teasing.

"Yes, but I'm an idiot. Everybody knows that" Jack replied, and they both laughed.

"You have your Jones boy to keep you from idiocy" she pointed out. "He's rather dishy, isn't he?"

"Hands off Cooper" Jack chuckled, inwardly arguing that _dishy_ was an understatement when it came to Ianto. Ianto was the very definition of masculine beauty, in his eyes.

"He does look after me" he said softly, his gaze blurring as he lost focus on his immediate surroundings in order to wonder what Ianto might be doing. Perhaps stretching up to to fix a decoration in the reception marquee, or bending over a floral arrangement...

"...oing to behave yourself, Jack Harkness. My family isn't exactly enamoured with you."

"Hmm? What?" Jack asked, startled from the vivid imagery in his head. Gwen rolled her wide hazel eyes.

"I said I hope you're going to behave yourself this weekend, or my father will have your bollocks."

"For a lovely girl, you've got a very dirty mouth" Jack replied with a faux-gasp, his brows raised high.

"So I hear" Gwen grinned, her eyeline captured again by Rhys sliding sideways along the grass, staining his entire leg yellowish-green amidst a litany of cursing.

"Best behaviour, Gwen. Promise. Like you said... Jones will keep me in line."

* * *

After the match came the inevitable sulking by the losing side, who had succumbed to a brutal defeat by Rhys' team. The various plaintive cries of "it was supposed to be a friendly!" by wounded men fell on deaf ears, as Rhys' aggression appeared to have become contagious, leading to widespread Neanderthal-like behaviour. Jack was slightly wary of sharing a car with his friend as Rhys dropped his mud-stained body into the passenger seat, but slid behind the wheel regardless and began to drive the conquering hero back to Ystradgynlais Hall.

Soon enough they approached a gaggle of people blocking the road, and Jack slowed the car as he squinted at the flags being waved. The design was stark black and white, with a crude image of what appeared to be the Earth upon it. Closer inspection showed a bomb fuse protruding from the orb, a design even Jack thought to be rather crass and melodramatic. He eventually became away of John Ellis standing proudly on a small podium above his minions, wearing a bizarre sash across his chest.

"Miracle Day" Jack murmured, knowing this must be the fascist movement Ianto mentioned.

"That's them" Rhys replied, puffing out his chest. "Stop the car, Jackie."

Jack did as requested, and Rhys leapt from the vehicle without pausing to open the door.

"Oi, Ellis, keep this rabble off the road!" he yelled, causing the Miracle Day members to break their vague formation and glare at the dirt-streaked man.

"How dare you, Williams!" their leader bellowed, shooting daggers at Rhys through narrowed eyes. "My highly-trained force has more right to the road than _you_ do!"

"Oh don't talk rubbish, Ellis" Rhys snapped, already shooing the weakly protesting group out of the way.

"I am not in the habit of talking rubbish!" John replied, his face growing increasingly red, Jack observed.

"Well you're doing bloody well for a beginner" Rhys shot back, jumping back into the car. Jack failed to hold in his bark of laughter then, chancing a look at Ellis who was glaring at them both with murderous rage.

"Drive on, Jackie" Rhys sighed, seemingly bored of the altercation. "Clear the road, idiots!"

Jack ducked his head as far as he could whilst still able to see the path before him, fighting a smirk with all his might.

"Jingo, old man... you've changed" he said when they were free of the Miracle Day crew, half-proud and half-concerned at his friend's sudden ability to start fights wherever he pleased. "Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you."

Rhys only beamed, and continued to do so until he was back in the house and bounding up the stairs with Jack following suit.

"Good afternoon Mr. Williams, Mr. Harkness" Jones obediently greeted them when Rhys unexpectedly burst into Jack's suite instead of his own, finding Ianto ironing Jack's wedding suit.

"Afternoon, Jones" Jack replied, allowing a flirtatious tone into his voice. "Seems your little scheme worked" he said, inclining his head towards Rhys who was kicking off his mud-caked shoes onto the cream carpet. Ianto frowned, his lips thinning with disapproval.

"Which scheme would that be, sir?" he said, distracted by Rhys' disregard for the shag.

"The one to help Jingo get over his fear of Cooper and Ellis, Jones."

"Has it proven successful, sir?"

"Like a dream, Jones!" piped up, falling back onto Jack's bed with his arms folded behind his head. "You should have seen me just now with Ellis!"

"It _was_ quite a scene, Jones" Jack added, handing Ianto his hat and giving him a warning glance when the younger man grimaced.

"Glad to be of service, sir" Ianto replied, ignoring Jack and nodding at Rhys' prone form.

"Well obviously, a good deal of the success is in the execution" Rhys stated smugly, causing Jack and Ianto to share a long-suffering look. "In fact, Jones, I went one better!"

Ianto raised a disbelieving eyebrow, placing Jack's hat gingerly within the vast wardrobe.

"Indeed, sir?" he asked, with no small measure of trepidation.

"Yep! Just so I wouldn't forget anything, I wrote it all down in a notebook!" Rhys announced, looking beyond pleased with himself. Jack's mouth fell open, and Ianto tilted his head as if he'd misheard.

"You... _wrote it down_, sir?"

"Yeah! In a little notebook!"

"Wait, wait... Jingo... you're telling us that _you_, the most clumsy, unmindful man in all of Wales wrote every hateful thing he could think of about his future father-in-law and his future father-in-law's short-tempered best pal... _in a notebook_?" Jack said slowly, eyes wide.

"Oh come off it Jackie, I'm not an idiot! I keep it with me at all times! I spent all evening filling the pages, and it's been with me ever since."

"So... where do you keep it?"

"Rhys shoved himself off the bed and reached behind him. "In my back pocket, of course!" he said, groping fruitlessly at his shorts. After a moment his face fell, along with Jack's stomach.

"Jingo... tell me you haven't lost it..."

"I had it when we left the rugby field!" Rhys replied defensively, frisking himself thoroughly. "I... I must have dropped it."

"Dropped it?" Jack repeated disbelievingly, knowing with a single glance at Ianto's face that he had grasped the dangers of the situation where Rhys had not.

"Yes, but it's alright, I can remember every word!" Rhys assured them, hands coming to rest on his hips.

"Oh, that's just brilliant. Good stuff, was it?" Jack enquired tersely.

"Of course it bloody was!" Rhys grinned.

"Good, good... so, no chance of Cooper or Ellis getting bored when they find it and read it..."

There was a long moment of tense silence before Rhys burst out of the room with an anguished cry of realisation, Jack and Ianto hot on his tail while Jack uselessly called his friend's name. They followed Rhys all the way to the vast Cooper garage, where he flung himself into Jack's car and began to search every inch of the vehicle.

"I fear this ending in tears, sir" Ianto murmured, and Jack was temporarily stunned by the idea that this might be something Ianto couldn't fix.

"It's not here!" Rhys yelled, his distressed voice echoing around the building.

"Well there's only one place it can be, Jingo" Jack shrugged. "You must have dropped it when you got out of the car to shout at Ellis."

Rhys' mouth hung open. "No... it could be... the stairs..."

"I was behind you, remember? I would have noticed" Jack pointed out, aware that the careful plans to endear Rhys to his new family were falling apart around their ears.

"Oh damn... oh bugger... balls..." Rhys muttered, his fear returning tenfold.

"Calm down Jingo, we'll sort this..."

"_YOU_ can stay well out of it, Jack Harkness! This is all your fault!" Rhys yelled, turning a sickly shade of purple.

"Of course it is... isn't is always..." Jack mumbled, looking so downtrodden that Ianto felt the familiar yearning to hold his hand or slip an arm around his shoulder.

"Sir... should Mr. Ellis have discovered the notebook, and assuming he does not immediately inform Sir Cooper of its contents, there may be one further mean of escape from his wrath" he said quietly, almost smiling when Jack stared at him with total trust and hope.

"With what you found in the Harwood book, Jones?" he whispered.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Williams may still emerge on the other side of this wedding unharmed..."

* * *

By supper time, Rhys still hadn't spoken another word to Jack. On top of which, Jack remained oblivious to the information Ianto possessed about Ellis, and both Jack and Rhys – while avoiding each other – were also looking for Ellis around every corner despite knowing his rally was set to last all day. It had occurred to Jack that, following his behaviour in the car and his inability to keep from laughing at Rhys' abuse of Ellis, he would undoubtedly be in the firing line for punishment alongside Rhys. He hadn't yet admitted that to Ianto however, and could only hope that whatever dirt he had on Ellis was good enough to save them both.

Again Jack and Rhys were shoved in the second dining room together to eat, like disgraced children, and the mood was frosty at best. Jack was stubbornly quashing down any ideas he had of apologising; he had done enough of that in his life, most often when it wasn't his fault, and he'd done nothing wrong. No matter how miserable Rhys looked, he wasn't going to say sorry.

"RHYS WILLIAMS!" a voice like a furious foghorn called from the foyer, and Rhys dropped his spoon with a splash and a clatter.

"Jack... it's Ellis" Rhys whispered frantically, frozen in his seat.

"It's alright Jingo, we'll just... we'll... umm-"

"JACK HARKNESS!" the voice continued, coming closer.

"Shit!" Jack yelped, shoving his seat backwards with a scrape of wood-on-wood and leaping to his feet.

"Jack, what do we do?"

"I don't damn well know!"

"Well where's your precious Jones when we need him?"

Jack fell silent, wondering himself what the hell Ianto's plan was. He was just longing for the young man to drop from the sky like a guardian angel when Ellis burst into the room, his face a cerise beacon and – of course – a small leather-bound notebook being crushed in his right hand.

"You" he hissed, glaring between Jack and Rhys.

"What do you want, Ellis? We're busy" Rhys asked, his voice cracking as he attempted cold casualness. Ellis roared in response and flung himself into the room at Rhys, who was literally scared stiff.

"JINGO!" Jack yelled, reaching across the dining table to grab Rhys' arm and _dragging_ him across the glossy wood with an almighty heave, causing Ellis to trip over a chair in his haste and affording Jack and Rhys a little extra time to dash out of the room and up the stairs.

"You saved my bloody life!" Rhys panted, still attached to Jack's arm as they hurtled down a corridor, the heavy footsteps behind them fuelling their escape.

"He's not going to _kill_ us, Jingo... dismember, maybe..." Jack replied breathlessly, and Rhys laughed with a tinge of hysteria.

"WILLIAMS! HARKNESS!" Ellis shouted behind them, his voice muffled as they threw themselves back into Jack's suite and shoved the door closed.

"Is there something the matter, sirs?" Ianto asked, drifting in from the bathroom with a beatific expression.

"Aside from Ellis attempting to throttle us? Nothing whatsoever, Jones" Jack replied, grinning despite himself as adrenaline rushed through him. He leaned a little extra weight on the door as the thumping began, feeling Rhys tremble with panic.

"Oh god Jackie, he's going to break my arms and my legs and he'll throw me out and I'll never marry Gwen and I love her _so mu-hu-hu-huuuch_!"

"Snap out of it, Jingo!" Jack hissed; "Jones has something up his sleeve... right, Jones?"

Jack turned to his valet once more, who tilted his head with an impassive expression.

"_Right, Jones_?" Jack repeated, his voice raising an octave as the façade didn't waver. With a deafening growl from the other side of it, the door swung open and knocked both Jack and Rhys aside, the frame then filled by John Ellis' enraged form.

"I wasn't going to read this when I picked it up this afternoon... I was going to respect your privacy, but I decided that since you performed such a humiliating display in front of my beloved group..." his right eye twitched with fury, "...and now, you two are in more trouble than you can imagine" Ellis hissed, stepping slowly towards them as the pair backed away, huddled like frightened mice. Jack felt utterly ridiculous for falling prey to the fear that was overwhelming him, feeling himself pushed down without a safety net in the face of an utterly forbidding figure. Ellis couldn't even _do_ anything to him, besides banning him from the house... or smashing his face in... or throwing him out of a window... and it wasn't even his fault, damn it!

He jumped when his hand was grabbed, and for a second he thought Ianto was holding onto his fingers as moral support until he felt something dry pushed against his palm. _Paper. Is that it? Do something, Ianto!_

"You'll wish you'd never been born" Ellis promised, his over-the-top anger making Jack see the irony of the short fuse on the Miracle Day logo. He and Rhys fell against the wall, shrinking under the threatening stare of John Ellis, and Jack closed his eyes as the man raised one fat fist.

"Sir!" he heard Ianto whisper, and he glanced over Ellis' shoulder just in time to see his valet incline his head towards Jack's hand. _The paper!_ With a lightning speed, Jack unravelled the folded note with damp fingers and frowned briefly at the word before shouting at the top of his lungs: "UTOPIA!"

The effect was instantaneous. All expression and colour drained from Ellis' face and his hands dropped limply to his sides.

"What?" he breathed.

"Utopia" Jack repeated, straightening himself up and shrugging Rhys' panic-contorted face off his shoulder. "That's right Ellis, we know all about... Utopia."

"Oh... ohhh... but... how?"

"That's for us to know, Ellis. Now I suggest you hand over that notebook to my man Jones, and we'll forget all about this unpleasantness."

He watched as Ellis struggled to completely damp down his violent impulses, but whatever _Utopia_ was, it was clearly enough of a concern to stop him from even knocking their heads together.

"Of course, Harkness... errr, Jack... I can call you Jack, can't I?"

"You can call me Mr. Harkness" Jack replied cockily, earning himself a small disapproving head-shake from Ianto. Jack shrugged slightly in response, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"You won't tell anybody... will you?" Ellis pleaded in a small voice with a simpering smile, handing the clammy book over to Ianto, all sense of threat about the man diminished. "It would _destroy_ my reputation..."

"Of course not, provided you don't tell anybody about the notebook. Particularly Sir Cooper."

"No, no, I won't" Ellis promised, wiping the back of his hand against his sweaty brow.

"What on earth is going on up here?" the man in question demanded from the open doorway, scowling with disapproval at Rhys and Jack from beneath his bushy grey eyebrows.

"Nothing, nothing Geraint, just... a misunderstanding. All resolved now, old fruit." Ellis replied lightly.

"I see" Cooper said with heavy suspicion, his glare settling on his future son-in-law.

"You, boy, shouldn't you get an early night? You're marrying my daughter tomorrow, and god forbid you're too tired to turn up at the alter..." he said acerbically, Rhys nodding hard.

"Yes sir, yes, I'll... err... goodnight Jack... thanks, Jones" he mumbled, sidling past his future father-in-law who glared after him.

Cooper and Ellis soon left too, the latter looking slumped and defeated, and Jack slid, entirely exhausted, down the wall.

"Good lord, Jones... you do like to cut it a bit fine" he sighed, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"Apologies, sir. I thought that the effect would be optimised if Mr. Ellis was already enraged when the bombshell was dropped, if you'll pardon the expression. I assumed that yourself and Mr. Williams would indeed seek refuge in your suite."

Jack opened his eyes and was mildly surprised to find Ianto kneeling in front of him, untying his shoelaces. Jack lifted his feet slightly, allowing Ianto to slip them off, and parted his thighs to pull the younger man between them.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sir?" Ianto asked softly, leaning as close to Jack as he was able to without their lips touching.

"Eventually" Jack huffed.

"I thought you appreciated the thrill of the unknown... sir" Ianto replied, his voice a whisper against Jack's mouth. Unable and unwilling to stop himself, Jack kissed his valet wetly and with passion, entangling his tongue with Ianto's.

"Mmmmm... I do, Jones... I do" he murmured, as he reluctantly broke the kiss. "So tell me, what exactly is 'Utopia'?"

"I cannot divulge that information, sir. Harwood Society rules."

Jack gaped at Ianto's self-satisfied expression.

"After all that, you won't even tell me what it means?"

"I can't, sir. You shall have to trust me."

Jack wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and tugged him hard against him until they were wrapped up as one, half propped up by the wall and breathing into each other – _for_ each other.

"I trust you" Jack murmured, feeling the myriad of troubles that had built up over the course of the way leave him with swiftness and ease. Of course they would return – they would always return – but during the night when Ianto was only his, ignorance was bliss.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

Evening, all! I spent all bloody day rewriting this chapter, and not only has it ended up twice the intended length, but I'm _still_ not happy with it. However, I don't think it's fixable at this point so I'll leave you all to judge. Thank you for the marvellous reviews - I cannot believe I'm nearly at 500! It's ridiculous and amazing and all sorts. You lot rule.

Anyway, enjoy! Pip pip!

* * *

The morning of the wedding began with the rarest of occurrences; an astounding event almost unheard of in its infrequency.

Jack awoke before Ianto.

In his haste to wrestle Ianto into his bed the previous evening, he had waved him away from any last-minute chores and closed the drapes himself before 'helping' Ianto out of his uniform. As a result, a haphazard gap had been left between the twin folds of fabric and now sunlight streamed directly over his face, giving him an excuse to keep his eyes closed.

_Can't even close a damned pair of curtains by myself_ he thought, half amused and half annoyed that he could be so completely inept. Doubly so, since it turned out as soon as he and Ianto tumbled into the inviting mattress that he was more exhausted than he'd realised, and as much as he tried to ignore the feeling, the unstoppable jaw-cracking yawn that escaped mid-kiss gave him away. Ianto had offered a sympathetic smile as he hovered above, pointing out that Jack had endured a long day and perhaps sleep was more important than sex at that particular moment.

Jack had sighed and frowned and sulked, but his drooping eyelids were grateful for the quiet calm and the warm arms wrapped around him from behind. Now, his pride felt far less wounded by his lack of stamina when physically fatigued, and he shuffled as carefully as he could until he was safe from the sunlight and facing his lover.

Finally opening his eyes, Jack found himself almost nose-to-nose with Ianto and grudgingly moved back a little in order to enjoy the view from an more focussed angle. Ianto's eyelashes fluttered slightly against his cheeks, dark brown on cream, soft pink colouring the highest point of his cheekbones. The corners of his mouth were always slightly down-turned during sleep, but rather than making him look unhappy, it restored a youth and innocence that Ianto had never truly had the chance to enjoy.

Jack's gaze landed on the freckle which lay off-centre on the bridge of Ianto's nose, then to the hair that was in an unusual state of disarray, and finally the strong, curved, lightly stubbled jawline. He wondered if Ianto ever wasted time just lying next to him, staring like this, or whether he slipped out of bed as soon as he woke up and was immediately in Jones Mode. Jack's sentimental side (and his vanity) liked to imagine the young man might take the moment to just enjoy a pocket of absolute peace, and perhaps admire Jack's stunning good looks.

Jack smirked, knowing that even in his darkest moments, he could probably pick himself up merely by acknowledging his own handsomeness. _Simple things please simple minds_ he thought, and he'd never cared who thought he was immodest. His looks had worked to his advantage his entire life. In another universe, Ianto could have been in a similar position, with his gorgeous face, enviable stature and stunning smile. Jack found it extremely difficult to envisage Ianto as a free-living bachelor, yet it baffled him that a man of such striking beauty was still able to slip in and out of rooms unseen by so many, as his job warranted. It should have been impossible, Jack thought, and sometimes he wanted to draw attention to Ianto in a crowded room just so that the ignorant inhabitants would really _look_ at him.

But Ianto wouldn't appreciate that. He had worked hard at his valet persona for a very long time, and besides... Jack loved having him to himself.

Those feathery lashes shifted again, and Jack had to wonder if Ianto was dreaming of him. He _hoped_ he was dreaming of him. What would a man like him dream of? A life with Jack, as free as it was possible to get, continuing his professional role while Jack slowly became increasingly eccentric and dependant... until the burden was too large? Or perhaps a marriage to a woman – to Lisa – children, social acceptance. When they parted ways, Ianto would have the chance to find another love. Perhaps that was what he dreamt of.

"Must you think so loudly, sir?" Ianto's deep, sleep-roughened voice cut through his thoughts and Jack started, the slight motion causing his valet to smile before he'd even opened his eyes.

"Reading my mind again, Jones?" Jack teased, the small laugh that followed it sounding slightly nervous even to his own ears.

Ianto's lashes parted, his irises crystal-bright and depthless, silently questioning.

"What would I discover if I possessed such powers, sir?" he asked. Jack shrugged non-committally, alerting Ianto to a blatant lie. If Jack couldn't even be bothered to cover his tracks with a saucy quip, something was wrong.

"Jack" he murmured, capturing Jack's entire attention immediately. Ianto brushed his knuckles lightly along Jack's cheek, curving over the chin and pressing his thumb against the much-loved cleft at the centre. "Talk to me."

Jack's mind swirled with everything he fought to keep silent, knowing that voicing his fears was never going to help. The emotion would only grow more intense as the inevitable neared. For the longest time, he had relied on his natural optimism to lessen the sting, but it was beginning to fail him as the knowledge of his future separation from Ianto festered in his mind. Ianto had always seemed to accept their fate with little resistance, and Jack realised now that he resented that fact. He at once wished he could embrace the same calm resignation, and hated that his lover showed no signs of wanting to fight for them when the time came – whether the cause was lost or not.

Jack smiled, fully aware of how strained it looked, and kissed Ianto's cheek, trailing his mouth down his throat and across his upper chest slowly in place of words. He felt Ianto's hands slide over his shoulders and the rumble of his voice through warm skin.

"Will you tell me when you're ready?"

His voice was low and soft and understanding in a way that Jack didn't deserve, but still he nodded and whispered "yes", continuing on his journey and willing himself to become lost in Ianto's body, to order to put off his depressive reflections for just a few minutes more.

Ianto watched him with a slight frown, the delicious prickle of his skin wherever Jack's lips touched not quite distracting his mind completely. Jack was off... and it wasn't like him to hide it, not these days. However, Ianto chose not to push this time. Jack's moods could hang on a delicate balance, and Ianto suspected that they would each need a level head for the long day in front of them.

A surreptitious glance at the clock told him that it was well before his usual rising time as suspected, and many hours until Jack's, so he relaxed completely into the mattress with his hands in Jack's hair, hoping to communicate support in his usual quiet manner.

Jack's mouth followed a familiar path with an increasing fervency that Ianto knew well. He pressed his face between Ianto's thighs, hot breath on tingling flesh, and proceeded to drown his young lover with sensation in every way he could think of. He needed to hear Ianto make those sounds of willing submission, the soft moans that only Jack was allowed to hear, the husky chanting of his name that proved Ianto's utter devotion and soothed his mind.

By the time Ianto cracked under the onslaught of Jack's clever tongue and found his climax in the heat of that silken throat, Jack was feeling almost back to his usual self – including the haze of needful lust that throbbed as he swallowed hard and rutted against the mattress.

He grinned up at his panting lover, smile natural now as he licked his lips, knowing that nothing else could ever taste as gratifying as Ianto Jones.

"Jack..." Ianto whispered with no small degree of awe, cupping his lover's chin and brushing his thumb over lips which gave him so much joy. Jack took a moment to kiss the digit, revelling in the depth of love and satisfaction in Ianto's heavily hooded eyes before flashing an even brighter smile and replying: "my turn?"

Ianto laughed, the sound like dark molasses, even as he began to push himself up in order to swap places with his lover. They met in the middle, sharing a long penetrative look and an equally thorough kiss before Jack threw himself down onto his back with a flourish and a contented sigh.

"I'm all yours, Mr. Jones" he murmured, knowing that it would always be true, whatever happened.

* * *

The luxuriously slow morning had been a true blessing in the end, as soon enough the household came to life around them and they were forced to emerge. Jack had sweet-talked his lover into one last round of lovemaking, not that it took a great deal of persuasion – Ianto had already been lying behind him, rocking slowly against the curve of Jack's buttocks as they each rested after the high of early morning orgasm. A little Harkness charm had removed any half-hearted resistance on Ianto's part, and without having to move far at all, they were able to enjoy a slow, hot build-up, culminating in gasped words of love and a very slight, lingering soreness on Jack's part.

He wriggled slightly on the edge of the bed to revel in that feeling before it eased completely, fiddling with the cravat he was wearing for the wedding in the full knowledge that he was making a mess of it and that Ianto would have to re-tie it for him. _Oh, what a shame_ he smirked.

Sure enough, a familiar tut marked the arrival of his valet with a cup of coffee from the breakfast room, looking thoroughly professional once more and world away from the picture of debauchery earlier that morning morning. Jack adored the contrast.

"Sir, please allow me to do that" he stated with the air of a long-suffering parent, and Jack grinned like a rebellious child. He let go of the blue silk and stood, enjoying the concentration on Ianto's face as he deftly tied the accessory to perfection.

"There you are, sir" he declared, stepping back to take a good look at Jack. The outfit was surprisingly subtle for him, bar the brightness of the cravat (which was also delicately patterned with houndstooth – a fact Ianto chose to ignore), and he looked no less than exceptional.

"Thank you, Jones. I wish you were coming to the actual wedding, y'know... I know hardly anybody there and the ones I _do_ know mostly... well, hate me."

"The ceremony will not last long sir, and I will await you here for the reception" Ianto reminded him, straightening Jack's cuffs. Jack caught his hands and kissed each palm, sighing heavily before he straightened his shoulders and settled into his social demeanour.

"Come along then, Jones... I'd better calm down an inevitably panicking Jingo" Jack announced, draining his coffee in one long gulp before stepping through the door that his valet had opened for him.

Immediately on leaving the suite, Jack and Ianto could hear Rhys' raised voice from the foyer below and they shared a weary look. Glancing over the balustrade in tandem, they were able to see that his diatribe was directed at a purple-faced Ellis, who looked as if rage alone might pop the top button of his crisp shirt clean off.

"It appears that Mr. Williams has failed to learn his lesson, sir" Ianto stated with disapproval.

"Looks that way, Jones... I'd better sort this out before the groom turns up at the altar with two black eyes" he stated with a grim smile. Ianto nodded dutifully, flashing Jack a very brief affectionate glance before leaving his company, sidestepping his way past the quarrelling pair to the grounds outside.

Jack watched him leave before skipping down the stairs with exuberance, mentally preparing himself before appearing in the space between two warring Welsh bullocks.

"Morning, all! Beautiful day for a wedding, don't you think?" he said loudly with a heavy volume of good cheer, effectively cutting off the argument. "Now what's all this negativity on your special day, Jingo?"

"I was provoked!" Ellis declared before Rhys could open his mouth. "I hadn't said a _word_ to Williams before, out of the blue, he called me a pompous ass!"

"You _are_ a pompous ass, Ellis, _and_ an idiotic fascist!" Rhys sneered, the previous day's obnoxiousness apparently having returned with a vengeance.

"I will rip the skin from your skull" Ellis replied in a dangerously low tone, lunging for Rhys before Jack forcefully pushed him back.

"ELLIS! Control yourself, man!" he said, giving Rhys a little warning shove too for good measure. "You won't lay a finger on Jingo, you hear me? Remember, we know all about _Utopia_."

As with the previous evening, the reaction was immediate, and Ellis took an extra step back.

"Y-yes... of course... I forgot." he stammered.

"Clearly" Jack huffed. "Now, the cars are making their way to the church. I suggest you find your seat."

Ellis opened and closed his mouth, shot Rhys a dagger-filled glare, and then he turned away from them with his shoulders sloping low, looking so pathetic that Jack almost felt sorry for him.

Rhys and Jack let out a simultaneous sigh of relief, and Jack's glare turned into an impish grin as he turned to face his friend.

"What would you do without me to save your sorry ass?" he murmured, punching Rhys playfully on the arm. Rhys laughed, but his face fell quickly as he caught sight of Ellis marching back towards them over Jack's shoulder.

"What now, Ellis?" he said in a sharp tone, both of them turning to face the approaching man.

"An idea occurs to me" Ellis said, his tone frighteningly calm.

"Well, it had to happen sooner or later" Rhys said, and Jack prodded him in the ribs.

Ellis gave them a sickening smile. "Do either of you actually know what Utopia _is_?"

Jack saw Rhys' jaw drop from the corner of his eye, and swallowed the suddenly dry lump in his own throat.

"Of course we do" he said, fully aware of how insubstantial it sounded.

"Do enlighten me" Ellis said, folding his thick arms over his chest.

The silence that followed was agonising, and Jack was just trying to decide whether her could conceivably get both himself and Rhys out of the house and into a car before Ellis tore them limb from limb, when the maniac in question exploded with a roar. The two young men jumped back, Rhys clinging to Jack's jacket with an unsuppressed whimper.

"You don't even know what it is! How _dare_ you presume to use knowledge as a weapon against me when you know NOTHING!" Ellis yelled, his voice echoing through the entrance hall in a way that made Jack almost wish he hadn't indulged in that final bout of sex instead of leaving earlier with the rest of the wedding attendees. _Almost_.

"Listen here, Ellis..."

"SHUT UP, HARKNESS!"

"Right. Jingo? Ready to run?"

Rhys whimpered behind him and Jack took that to mean the affirmative.

"Okay... GO!"

Jack and Rhys shot off like twin lightning bolts, cutting a jagged escape route through the ground floor while Ellis followed, his anger genuinely concerning after having been mocked, threatened, mocked again _and_ lied to about the threat. _I can sort of see his point of view_, Jack thought, everything in him focussed on staying alive – the wedding forgotten.

After stumbling through two reception rooms, both dining rooms, and the music room – in which they shoved a solid oak cello seat against the door to slow Ellis' progress – they found themselves in Geraint Cooper's study.

"One of these wall panels is actually a big cupboard, Gwen told me" Rhys panted. "Big enough for both of us to get inside, at any rate. We can hide in it until Ellis has gone!"

He blindly groped the wooden walls as Jack stood at the door, listening to their predator pounding his fists against the blocked music room entrance.

"Hurry up, Jingo" he said between clenched teeth, hearing a victorious shout immediately after.

"Here! Look, there's a tiny lock near the bottom, and the key's still in it." He leaned down and unlocked the door, grabbing Jack's sleeve and shoving him into the darkened space.

"Get your arse in there, Jackie!" he growled, diving in after him and slamming the door closed.

For a few endless moments, the only sounds were of the two young men desperately catching their breath, until a booming crack alerted them to Ellis' presence in the study. The breathing stopped entirely at that moment, as they both pressed an ear to the wood to listen to the prowling, suddenly softened footsteps on the other side.

Rhys' grip on Jack's wrist became painful when the movement halted immediately in front of their only protection, and Jack squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the flurry of violence he was fully expecting. Instead, all he heard was a light click and then Ellis was walking away, his footsteps heavy again, and was he... whistling?

He felt Rhys slither to his knees, muttering "ohgodohgodohgod" as he went, and a cold chill shot through him as realisation set in.

"Jingo... tell me you took the key out of the lock before you closed the door" he murmured in a low, dark voice, already knowing what the answer was.

"Key?" Rhys replied dumbly, and Jack gave the door frame a weak shove, his worst fears confirmed when it was immovable.

"He's locked us in."

"What?"

"Ellis has locked us in."

"_What?_"

"How can I possibly say it clearer than that!" Jack snapped, and Rhys rose to his feet once more, jostling Jack as he groped at the door.

"No, it... it can't be locked, I'm getting married in an hour!" he whined.

"This is just perfect, Jingo. Ellis locks us in, you don't turn up at the wedding, we both get thrown out and you never see Gwen again."

"It's worse than getting beaten to a pulp!" Rhys wailed.

"I think that's the idea" Jack huffed, giving the door a useless kick.

"We need your marvellous valet, Jack! He's always getting you out of scrapes!"

"And how exactly do you propose we tell him we're in here? Smoke signal?"

"Well I don't know what to do!"

"Neither do I!"

"You didn't tell me you had no idea what _Utopia_ sodding well is!"

"It doesn't damn well matter now, does it?"

Silence fell, except for Rhys' sniffling, and Jack allowed his head to fall against the wood with a dull thud. _Brilliant._

* * *

"I spy with my little eye-"

"Shut up, Jingo."

"Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Well, don't."

Jack couldn't tell how much time had passed, but it was enough for them to have beaten their fists raw against the door, attempted to kick it open (only to realise quickly there simply wasn't enough room for that), and grown exceedingly weary of each other. Jack sat with his back pressed to the door, Rhys opposite him shrouded in shadow but still visibly sulking.

"She'll hate me" he mumbled, and Jack rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Look, if we explain, she might understand..."

"But Geraint won't! He won't give me permission to marry her for a second time! I've lost her..."

Jack grudgingly patted Rhys' knee, wishing he had something even remotely comforting to say. But the fact was, Ellis had won, and Jack had to concede that Rhys had been better off before with his fear.

A sharp sound jolted them both from the thick sense of resigned disappointment that had filled the small space, and an abrupt loss of equilibrium made Jack yelp as he tumbled backwards. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the sudden light and waiting impatiently for his eyes to focus on the shape above him.

"Forgive my impertinence sir, but may I enquire as to what _exactly_ you were doing in a cupboard with Mr. Williams?"

_Ianto!_

Jack scrabbled to his feet, grinning with uninhibited relief at Ianto's wry expression.

"Jones! How on earth did you know we were here?" he asked, aware of Rhys climbing out behind him with a groan of discomfort.

"I didn't, sir – I simply followed the wave of destruction" Ianto explained, and Jack noted the careless footprints marring the heavily-glossed parquet leading to the cupboard door, beyond which the mess surely extended through every room they had invaded. The tiny key still sat in the lock, and Jack was torn between despairing over the stupidity of the entire situation, and longing to kiss their saviour.

"Jones, you bloody marvel!" Rhys cried, throwing himself at Ianto and almost lifting him off the ground. Jack laughed at the shock and dismay on Ianto's face, earning himself a scowl.

"Thank you... sir" he choked out, smoothing down his suit as soon as he was released. "But time is too pressing for thanks. The wedding ceremony is set to begin in less than ten minutes and the groom's car appears to have left without the two of you, so all that remains is your own vehicle, sir" Ianto stated, nodding at Jack. "I suggest you hurry, before the bride loses hope."

Rhys was already dashing towards the garage before Ianto had finished speaking, leaving Jack to murmur "I love you, Ianto Jones" with all of his awe for the young man, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before racing after the his friend.

Jack caught up with Rhys just in time to see him shove a young man to the ground, probably a member of the reception staff, who just happened to be in the way and darted around the prone figure calling "sorry!" on Rhys' behalf. Once in the garage, the two threw themselves into the car and drove like all the rules of road etiquette had gone out of fashion.

Rhys shouted directions and Jack followed blindly, determined not to ruin another person's life with ridiculous schemes. As enormously grateful was he was for Ianto's wonderful ideas, it too often transpired that somebody ended up emotionally hurt (even if they deserved it) by them and this time, a friend's entire life was at stake. Of course it wasn't supposed to go the way it had, and the initial idea had simply escalated to a ludicrous extreme, but still Jack felt responsible.

"THERE!" Rhys shouted, the little church approaching.

"All the cars are still there – that's a good sign!" Jack pointed out, hurriedly finding a space before the two of them ran up to the enormous double doors and stopped dead, swallowing down nerves.

"Ready?" Jack asked, nudging Rhys with his elbow. A small nod was all the indication he needed, and together they threw the doors apart.

An abrupt hush descended on the congregation before them, and every single member turned to scowl at the two men. Jack registered many a look of disgust, and wondered if it was more to do with the late arrival of two men who weren't popular with these a lot of these people, or the fact that they were sweaty, rumpled, and – he realised with distaste – covered in cobwebs.

At the far end of the church stood Gwen, already on the aisle with a tear-stained face and Geraint's protective arm around her shoulder. Jack felt immensely sorry for her, understanding that she must have given up waiting and simply returned to the main hall to seek comfort from her parents. Though they had driven as quickly as possible, they must have been late by at least another ten minutes, and nobody at the church would have been able to contact the groom.

The silence became oppressive and, as Rhys seemed to be struck dumb by the sight of his fiancée's pained expression, Jack took the initiative. He gave his friend a little push forwards, slapped a huge grin on his own face and simply said the first thing that came to mind:

"Kissogram for Gwen Cooper!"


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty**

Pip pip! Well, not many people disagreed with me that the last chapter was a bit rubbish... I had an all-time low in reviews. I hoped I'd be able to celebrate 500 reviews and 40 chapters at the same time, but clearly it wasn't meant to be. Still, 40 chapters is still quite an achievement for me - apparently I must try harder, though.

Thank you for the small amount of feedback I _did_ receive this week, and please don't be shy. Reviews make me very happy, and keep the story running.

* * *

"Afternoon... Jack Harkness... beautiful day..."

Jack shot one of his most sparkling grins at the elderly woman seated next to him, whose face seemed fixed in an irreversibly sour expression while she attempted to shuffle further along the pew away from him. His smile faded fast, and he futilely attempted to brush a few more cobwebs from his sleeves.

The initial shock of his and Rhys' entrance had swiftly turned to ice and, eventually, reluctant relief. Rhys had spouted some heartfelt speech aimed at Gwen (who finally took him in open arms, after punching one of his) but Jack hadn't really been listening, instead wondering whether he'd genuinely turn to stone or burst into flames under the intensity of the loathing stares focussed upon him. A few disapproving gasps had followed his opening words, and he quickly realised that he'd supplied them with just another reason to dislike him.

Now, with the ceremony finally under way, he refused to shy away in the sidelines and instead wedged himself into a space near the front with a good view of the tearful bride and groom. A glance towards the bride's side confirmed that Ellis had turned an interesting shade of cerise, though he had remained quiet during the dramatic reunion. Jack imagined that he was stewing in his own juices and would leave any remaining diatribes until after the wedding. Perhaps if Jack kept out of his way, he might emerge from the little country jaunt reasonably unscathed after all...

The actual wedding was, in Jack's opinion, as dull as all weddings and he was grateful when the deal was finally sealed with a deep kiss – a gesture which broke only when Gwen's father cleared his throat in what could only be construed as a threatening manner. Eventually, the congregation began to file out of the church and Jack went along with the crowd, attempting with the cadence of his walk to seem as if he possessed some small volume of dignity in spite of his appearance.

Uncharacteristically avoiding all around him, Jack waited for most of the weddings cars to leave before climbing into his own alone and heading back towards the house. A strange sense of melancholy had descended upon him once the ceremony got under way, and had left him thoughtful, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. It wasn't the usual oppressive emotion he experienced when thinking of his own future marriage to god-knows-who, but rather a bone-deep wistfulness for something he would never achieve.

However, the civilised but upbeat tone of the reception party immediately soothed him a little as he pulled up to Ystradgynlais Hall once last time, and hopped into the marquee where the other wedding attendees were already loosening up with a cocktail or two each. Now instead of glaring, they ignored Jack as he searched for Ianto with an itching desire for the comfort only his quiet company could provide.

A hand slammed down on his shoulder and he started, spinning in the vice-like grip and finding himself face-to-face with an exuberant grin rarely seen on Rhys' face.

"Jack, old fruit!" he declared, drawing his friend into a bear hug which left Jack struggling for breath.

"Well then Jingo, should I refer to you as Mr. Cooper from now on?" Jack teased, punching Rhys' bicep.

"No, Jackie, that's not how it works" Rhys admonished, his eye-line distracted by his new wife. Jack followed his gaze, struck by how contented Gwen looked, and how the (eventual) happiness of the day had made her glow.

"Yeah, it is" he chuckled, knowing that as delicate as she could appear, Gwen was an exceedingly strong woman and would always have the will of mind to put Rhys in his place. Which was perfect for a man with his unpredictable temper.

Rhys grinned at him again, no longer denying it, and slung an arm around Jack's shoulders to lead him to the bar that had been set up in one corner.

"You know Jack, I'd like to see you happily married one day. It really is terrific."

"Jingo, you've been married for less than an hour!" Jack laughed, ordering a gin and tonic and silently wishing for any conversational topic _except_ this one.

"Well yes, but I already know it's going to be bloody marvellous" Rhys gushed.

"Maybe I'm just not the marrying type. It doesn't suit everybody, you know. I don't see why I should fit a neat little pigeon hole" Jack replied, his voice grumbling near the end. Rhys contemplated him for a moment, looking to Jack like he could somehow see where his true inclinations lay, but he made no mention of it. Jack thought back to his last visit to Ystradgynlais, remembering Rhys' mention of how people were starting to talk about him and the way he treated his male friends with more affection than his fiancée's. _Brilliant,__Harkness__ – __now__you're__getting__paranoid..._

"I suppose" his friend eventually replied, avoiding Jack's eyes. Jack opened his mouth to ask him what exactly he wasn't saying when Ianto filtered silently into the marquee, a tray of Champagne flutes balanced on one hand and a warm smile on his face when he caught sight of his master.

"Good afternoon, sirs" he greeted, his voice like balm to Jack's soul. "Congratulations on the successfully executed nuptials, Mr. Williams."

"All thanks to you, Jones" Rhys grinned, his gaze flicking to the tray of drinks before he grabbed a glass for himself. After hesitating a second longer, he clapped Ianto firmly on the shoulder, the gesture unusually restrained since the younger man was carrying breakables.

"You are quite welcome, sir" Ianto replied, raising his chin slightly with pride. Jack grinned at him and his lover caught his eye, a subtle change in his expression showing that he was as pleased to see Jack as Jack was to see him.

"Geraint, look! There they are!" a voice boomed from behind, and there was Ellis, dragging Rhys' father-in-law towards them. "Williams and Harkness, they're the perpetrators! You should have seen the things they wrote about us!"

A few peoples' attentions were drawn to the small group of men, frowning at the disturbance.

"What are you babbling about, John?" Geraint demanded, shaking his arm from his friend's grip.

"Jones took it! He took the book where these two wrote poisonous, foul things about us! Harkness and Williams blackmailed me into giving it back to them! Isn't that right, Jones?"

Several pairs of eyes turned to Ianto, and he offered Geraint Cooper his most guileless expression.

"As far as I am aware, sirs, no such book exists" he said calmly, and Ellis once again began to turn an unusual reddish shade rarely seen in nature.

"You're making an arse of yourself, John" Geraint hissed impatiently, "and I hear it was _you_ who locked these lads in my study!"

"B-b-but they _provoked_ me!" Ellis cried, hastily shoved away as he became increasingly emotional.

"Go and get some air. _Now__" _he growled, shaking his head before he turned his attention back to the younger trio.

"Now, you two" he said, addressing Jack and Rhys; "I'm not going to deny that you've caused a _hell_ of a lot of trouble for me, and not just today. And to be quite honest, I don't bloody well trust either of you as far as I could throw you."

Jack and Rhys had the good sense to lower their heads slightly, before Geraint continued.

"However, I _do_ trust your valet, Harkness. He's been invaluable to this entire weekend, and I believe him if he says all this sorry business with John is no fault of yours."

He looked to Ianto for clarification, who simply nodded respectfully back.

"Good. Well, that's settled then. Come on young Rhys, you've got a brand new wife to dance with."

As Geraint strolled back to his own spouse, Rhys let out a low whistle of relief and turned, beaming, towards Ianto.

"Thanks for lying for us, Jones" he said quietly, and Ianto shook his head.

"I had no need to lie, sir. I don't believe any of the sorry business, as Sir Cooper put it, with Mr. Ellis was the fault of either you or Mr. Harkness."

"But what about the book? You told him it doesn't exist!"

"It doesn't, sir. I burnt it."

"You're a marvel, Jones" Jack said, speaking directly to Ianto for the first time, who inclined one eyebrow in a pleasingly familiar fashion.

"I try my best, sir. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Wait, Jones, where are you going?" Jack asked, hating how needy he sounded even as he grasped at Ianto's sleeve.

"I'm required on the stage, sir" Ianto explained, indicating towards the musicians settling themselves on a small platform. Jack hadn't noticed the gramophone music winding down, so distracted was he by the company.

"On stage? Why?"

"It appears that the pianist hired for this event was shoved to the ground by an unknown culprit just as yourself and Mr. Williams left the house, sir" the Welshman replied, the slightest twitch of an eyebrow indicating that he suspected their antics but would say nothing. "His hands are badly scraped and he can't possibly play. Though my skills are limited, I offered my services, after a small amount of encouragement from various members of the Cooper staff."

"Oh, right... well, break a leg then, Jones!" Jack grinned, hiding his disappointment at not having his safe haven to talk to for the rest of the afternoon. As ever, Ianto wasn't fooled, and he frowned slightly as he leaned in closer. Jack smelt his subtle scent of soap and coffee, and came extremely close to forgetting himself in order to lean in for a kiss.

"If you'd rather I didn't, sir..." Ianto murmured, trailing off with concerned eyes.

"No, no, you know I love to hear you play, Jones" Jack replied, feeling guilty for his selfishness as he gave his valet a little shove.

"Go on, wow the masses" he added with a chuckle, and watched with a heavy heart as the young man stepped gracefully into place.

An hour later Jack hadn't moved from his seat near to the back of the marquee, alternately staring his hands or at Ianto whenever he could see through the swaying crowd. The young man was clearly concentrating with all his might, sitting with his back ramrod straight, and despite his reference to limited skill he played each tune flawlessly. Jack noticed the new bride and groom sweeping across the floor with a little less vigour than before and pushed himself to his feet with a renewed burst of energy. He was determined to enjoy himself a little, even without Ianto.

"Mind if I cut in?" he asked in a cheeky voice with a tap to Rhys' shoulder. His friend turned to him and chuckled, his tone grateful as his tipsy smile and tired eyes said it all.

"Why not... I'm danced off my feet" he slurred, sloping away as Jack pulled Gwen close to him.

She beamed up at Jack, looking as tired as her husband, and Jack felt a swell of affection for the pair. While both Gwen and Rhys had caused Jack plenty of problems in his time, he genuinely liked them both and was surprisingly sure that they liked him too. That was a rare emotion for him.

"Where are you going on your honeymoon?" he asked quietly, exercising his long-dormant slow dance moves.

"Cornwall" she replied. "Away from Wales... away from my father" she added with a sly smile.

Jack laughed, glancing over at Geraint who seemed to be, frankly, unconscious.

"Can't say I blame you" he replied. They swayed in silence for a little while, until the initial strains of 'The Very Thought of You' caused Jack to clutch Gwen's hand a little too tightly. He turned his head towards Ianto, who was focussed solely on his sheet music, and took a deep breath against the emotion which throbbed in reaction to what he steadfastly thought of as _their__song_.

"I love this one" Gwen murmured, and Jack made a noise of agreement. His mind returned to that night after he had stumbled upon Ianto at the quaint little pub, when they squeezed themselves onto a the small piano stool and played the tune together. Looking back, it marked for Jack a change in both their professional and personal relationship. It was the first time he had seen Ianto relaxed away from the flat, the first time they had enjoyed each other's company as merely friends, and the first time he himself had explicitly stated that being with Ianto was the one thing that made him truly happy... although not in so many words.

"Do you ever think of getting married, Jackie?" Gwen asked against his shoulder, bringing him out of his daze. Once again his gaze slid to Ianto, surprised to see him staring back as he played blind. The Welshman's face was impassive, but his eyes glowed with his feelings in a way that Jack had learnt to understand at a single glance. Their eyes remained locked for a few moments more, Jack's chest tightening with everything Ianto's bright blue eyes told him, until the younger man was forced to return his vision to the music before him.

"Only if they change the law" Jack murmured distractedly, still watching his young valet with a longing that physically pained him. Now he understood that melancholy from earlier, the sadness not only stemming from their imminent separation, but the inability to express his feelings publicly like Gwen and Rhys were able to.

"Sorry?" Gwen asked, pulling back to give him a puzzled look. Jack tore his gaze from the man he loved and a forced a grin onto his face, winking cheekily at the woman in his arms.

"Well, as far as I know, self-marriage is illegal" he said and she laughed, swatting at his arm. The song mercifully ended and an unfamiliar one began, Jack closing his eyes with a sigh.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

It was past seven o'clock by the time Ianto finally slipped into his master's suite. The man in question appeared to be staring out of the window and the fields beyond, dressed in a white cotton vest and his tuxedo trousers with the black braces hanging low. It had taken even longer than imagined to clear up the marquee once the guests started falling away, their various chauffeurs turning up to take them home one after another. Following an entire day of clearing up for large volumes of people (which he simply wasn't used to), Ianto had felt exhausted – until the sight of Jack alone made some of the weary tension dissipate in a rush of contentment.

The pleasure was tinged with concern, however, as Jack had appeared at the reception contemplative and perhaps even a little forlorn, whatever issues he'd been wrestling with that morning apparently still haunting him. He had appeared his usual self when Ianto found him locked in Geraint Cooper's office, apparently revelling in a new adventure (enough to risk kissing him somewhere other than in their bedroom), but he was reserved when he returned to the house. Although they hadn't had much of a chance to talk, Ianto had surreptitiously watched him while he played on the stage and wracked his brain for an explanation.

Then there was the song... Ianto had almost grinned at the sight of that title adorning the page, but as the music swelled, he'd developed an achingly powerful urge to be the one dancing with Jack. When finally he had risked looking up, his lover lifted his head merely a second afterwards and stared directly into his soul. Ianto's breath had caught in his throat as the power of Jack's expression rolled over him, _into_him, and he'd hurriedly looked back down at the notes to avoid losing himself completely and dragging Jack against his chest.

For the remainder of the celebration, Ianto had barely seen Jack at all. He seemed to disappear entirely at about half past five, and Ianto hated the idea that he'd been up here all alone since. He'd do anything to make Jack smile once more.

Ianto shut the door behind him, a muted _snick_ and the slide of a lock making Jack's head turn slightly in acknowledgement. Ianto approached him slowly, removing his jacket and tie as he went until he was standing behind his lover, close enough to breathe in his scent and feel his tension.

"May I..." he murmured, curling an arm around Jack's body and holding out his hand in the universal gesture for '_shall__we__dance?_'. Jack spun on the spot looking startled, but he took the offered hand and pulled Ianto tight against him regardless, his expression softening into a grateful smile. He knotted their fingers together and held them against his chest, over his heart, as Ianto melted against his master with cheek pressed to flushed cheek.

The fact that Jack was holding him as an equal touched Ianto more deeply than he could have imagined and they rocked, slowly, as they had each longed to at the reception. Jack dropped his head onto his lover's shoulder and Ianto kissed the hinge of his jaw, gently taking the lead for the sake of a man who needed more support than he would ever admit to.

"You're not yourself, Jack" he murmured against the shell of an ear, and Jack sagged slightly in response. A long moment of silence passed but for the shuffle of socks against carpet, and Ianto thought that Jack wasn't going to reply. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but closed it again when Jack raised his head and looked into Ianto's eyes with that bright penetrative gaze. To his surprise, and utter pleasure, Jack began to sing.

"_The __mere __idea __of __you , __the __longing __here __for __you,_

_You'll never know how slow the moments go 'till I'm near to you,_

_I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above,_

_It's just the thought of you,_

_The very thought of you, my love..."_

His voice was softer and yet more powerful than Ianto had ever heard it, murmured from the heart and directed entirely at his own. The lyrics trailed off, and suddenly Ianto knew precisely what had been bothering Jack all day... the ever-swelling elephant in every room, the knowledge that made the love radiating from Jack as painful as it was pleasurable.

Shying from the intense play of emotion in Jack's eyes, Ianto pressed their foreheads together and stopped swaying, clinging tightly to the hand which held his and fighting hard to regulate his shuddering breaths.

"I'm sorry, Jack" he whispered, a wave of injustice and sorrow that he was normally able to control overwhelming him.

"So am I" Jack replied, halting the tidal wave of words which threatened to spill from his own lips by kissing his young lover slowly and deeply, taking the time to explore. Ianto moaned his encouragement, sliding the hand that lay splayed across the small of Jack's back beneath the pale singlet to stroke at his spine. Jack broke the kiss with a gasp, Ianto's light touch electric. He stared at his lover and smiled, the sadness banished from his eyes. For now.

"There's always here and now" he murmured, raising a hand to stroke his valet's cheek. "Thank you for reminding me, Ianto."

Ianto let out a quiet laugh and hummed his agreement, knowing that one day only his memories of Jack would be his safe haven, and tainting them would be something he'd regret forever. _Here__and__now..._

"Bed?"

"Please."

In one swift and practised motion, Ianto peeled Jack's vest up and off his lightly tanned torso, smiling cheekily in the face of Jack's surprise. He pressed his hands to Jack's stomach, feeling the muscles twitch in response before running them and over every soft ridge before he linked his fingers behind his employer's neck. Already Jack's pupils were blown wide, his expression one of awe and mischief.

"Ianto Jones... what are you going to do with me?" he murmured, sliding his palms over the curve of his lover's much-adored backside.

"I'm open to suggestion" Ianto replied in a husky, flirtatious voice, and Jack's laughter chased them as they tumbled onto the mattress.

* * *

"Jones, where on earth are you taking me?"

"Patience, sir. I felt that it may be time to reveal a certain secret to you."

Jack gazed at Ianto with curiosity but held his tongue. Their escape from Ystradgynlais the morning after the wedding had been swift, and Jack had expected a direct route back to Cardiff. Instead, Ianto had altered their course after only twenty minutes and parked the car in the middle of a small, extremely respectable town which was so secluded, Jack had yet to find a sign with its name on.

Now Ianto guided him passed several shops which possessed a level of sophistication rarely seen outside of the larger cities, before stopping directly in front of one which had sky-blue window frames and lace decorating the glass.

"Very pretty, Jones. What exactly am I looking at?" Jack asked, folding his arms.

"A ladies' underwear shop, sir."

"I can see that, Jones." Intricate corsets and silken knickers were clearly visible, but that didn't explain anything. "My question is, why?"

"Look at the sign, sir" Ianto replied patiently, and Jack raised his gaze to the banner above the door.

"_Utopia_..." he murmured aloud, his mouth falling open in realisation.

"Yes sir. Since the ugly business with Mr. Ellis is now over, and we are unlikely to cross paths with him again, I feel no guilt in explaining that Utopia is the name under which he indulges his unlikely passion for designing womens' undergarments."

"_This_ is what Ellis was so worked up about?" Jack asked, descending into peals of astounded laughter.

"Mr. Ellis'... _intense_reaction to your mention of his small underwear emporium came through fear of his secret reaching the ears of his loyal Miracle Day minions, sir. The knowledge that he owns a business aimed at the decidedly bourgeois customer would promote scorn within the ranks, while the news that said business is in the design and selling of this particular variety of clothing would result in mockery. It would undoubtedly jeopardise his authority amongst his followers, and Mr. Ellis is a man of vast pride."

Jack continued laughing, and Ianto smiled to himself as the joyful sound rang through the cobbled street.

"You can't be a successful dictator _and_ design brassieres on the side, Jones. It's one or the other" he chuckled, wiping his eyes.

"Indeed so, sir."

"You know what, Jones, why don't you... err... pop to that bakery I spotted around the corner and pick us up something for the journey?"

"Certainly, sir. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Surprise me" Jack said with a wink.

Ianto nodded despite his confusion and left his master's side, already out of sight by the time Jack had crossed the threshold of Utopia.

* * *

"Would you like a night cap, sir?" Ianto called from the kitchen, choosing uncharacteristic laziness in favour of strolling across the flat to Jack's bedroom.

"Please, Jones, and bring one for yourself" Jack replied in a sing-song tone, making Ianto chuckle. He poured two large whiskeys and switched off all of the lights before making his way to the master bedroom, realising that he'd now become used to ignoring his own in favour of one much larger and more lavish. Squeezing themselves onto one single mattress seemed foolish now, particularly as there were almost no barriers between them in any sense any longer.

Jack was already in bed and, Ianto assumed, naked judging by the fact that the sheets were pooled at his hips, exposing a smooth expanse of skin above them. His smile was one of dark seduction and Ianto placed both glasses on the dressing table before slowly stripping himself of his uniform, aware that Jack was watching his every move.

"You know, Mr. Jones, I have a small confession to make" Jack purred, and Ianto heard him shifting on the bed. Ianto turned, divesting himself of his crisp shirt and flashing his employer a questioning look.

"Sir?"

"I had a little look around Utopia while you were at the bakery."

Ianto stopped in his tracks and raised both eyebrows. "Indeed, sir?"

"Yep. Ellis wasn't there, fortunately, but... well, I got you a little present."

Jack delighted in watching Ianto's eyes widen, the wry smile falling from his face.

"Jack... I... I don't think... I have the legs for it" he stammered, unconsciously placing his hands in front of his groin in a protective gesture. Jack laughed loud and deep, sitting up and fixing Ianto with a playful gaze.

"Much as I disagree, I said the present was for _you_, Ianto..."

Before his valet could ask the question on his lips, it was stolen away as Jack threw back the covers and revealed lace-trimmed silk shorts, matching stockings, and even a slender ruffled garter clinging snugly to one thigh.

"I told the lady that my fiancée was tall and a little husky, but I didn't know her exact size" Jack grinned, leaning back on his elbows with a seductive little shuffle. "Not so sure about the stockings, but I could _definitely_ get used to the knickers."

Ianto remained silent, his mouth having dropped open on sight of Jack's... _outfit_... and he was struggling more than a little to close it once more. Jack tilted his head and gave his lover the most coy smile he could muster, pouting prettily as he asked "don't you like it?"

"Uhh... umm..." Ianto faltered, his lack of eloquence (and the fact that all blood from his brain had noticeably rushed southwards) answering for him. Jack chuckled again and reached for his hand, pulling him down onto the bed without resistance and kissing both of Ianto's pinkening cheeks.

"And I thought I couldn't surprise you any more" he said, grinning victoriously. "You, Jones, are in for the ride of your life..."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

I'm _so_ sorry that this chapter is late, ladies and gents. My muse and I had a crisis which I only overcame yesterday, and I've been typing like a madwoman ever since.

Jones and Harkness is on the home stretch now, and I think that saddening knowledge is what temporarily stuffed up my inspiration. There are a fair few more chapters to go (probably more than I think, since I waffle so much) and then I'll be ending this section of the Wodewood Universe, as I like to call it. However, as I've told a few of my reviewers already, there _will_ be sequels and I honestly don't see an end to this pair any time soon. I'm extremely attached to them, and that's partially thanks to you lot for keeping me going with all this attention - which I absolutely don't deserve. You're all wonderful.

So here we go, chapter forty-one and another new face in town. Feedback is greatly appreciated - enjoy!

P.s. Why is FFnet suddenly grouping together italicised words? It's exceptionally irritating...

* * *

After the drama of the Cooper/Williams wedding and with a gratitude that was tangible, Jack settled back into his usual routine. It took him almost an entire day just to recover from Ianto's reaction to his Utopia purchases (which soon lay in a small pile of glossy ruins at the bottom of the bedroom's waste paper basket), after which they allowed themselves to be consumed by that familiar bubble of mutual comfort which they knew so well and clung to so fervently.

Alice Carter sent her first telegram on the forth day. She had turned from frosty to downright demanding, stating quite clearly that _'if __you __fail __to __visit __within __a __week, __Jackie __Harkness, __I __shall __personally __hunt __you __down'._To Ianto's concern, Jack waved off the threat with more than a little nonchalance.

"She won't come here, Jones. And if she does, she doesn't need to know I'm in" he shrugged, sucking icing sugar from his fingers as he spoke through a mouthful of Turkish Delight.

"You wish for me to lie for you, sir?" Ianto asked, disapproval colouring his tone.

"If necessary" Jack replied, flashing a cheeky smile which – unusually – Ianto found irritating in this instance.

"It seems unwise to taunt your aunt further, sir. Whatever she has in mind for you, it will only become increasingly severe the longer you ignore her."

Again Jack flapped a hand dismissively, and Ianto sighed through his nose. Jack was choosing to be particularly stubborn, and he knew the cause was lost.

"Jones, I just want to live my life without that old dragon breathing down my neck for a change... you wouldn't begrudge me that, would you?"

His eyes shone with an air of emotional blackmail and Ianto smiled at him, unable to help himself.

"No, sir."

"Thank you, Jones. It's just... this kind of peace at home is unheard of. I don't want to know what she has to say."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. And Ianto..?"

"Sir?"

"Could you work some coffee magic?"

* * *

Ianto _did_ understand why Jack didn't want to see his aunt, and he was certain that it was for the same reason he himself _wanted_ Jack to see her. Jack was clinging desperately to his ideal of bachelorhood, unspoilt and carefree with his Welsh sidekick forever, and whatever Alice had to say, it would mar it. Most likely, she simply wanted to tear a strip off him for not visiting as soon as they returned from New York, reminding him in the process that he had 'responsibilities' to his 'guardian' and he should treat her with the respect she deserves.

Perhaps also she had a female lined up for him to meet, somebody else Ianto would have to force into thinking Jack was completely unsuitable, in order to postpone the inevitable for a little longer. Yes, Ianto understood Jack's point of view – but an itch low in his gut told him that getting the visit over with would be more pleasant for all in the long run. To procrastinate was to evoke revenge from an irate aunt.

But Ianto Jones was the perfect valet, and so he said nothing until the next telegram arrived a further three days later. This time, the tone was civil but cold, and attempted to use baked ham and familial conversation as an incentive. Again, Ianto's attempts to convince Jack fell on deaf ears.

"Ianto, I'm _not_ going to see her."

"You're being childish, Jack."

Jack's eyebrows rose at the clipped words, leaning his nude body slightly away from Ianto's warm frame.

"How am I being childish? I'm asserting my independence, damn it!"

"No, you're not. You're afraid to face your own aunt and you're hiding. This is going to end in tears."

That night, they came close to sleeping in separate beds. Jack didn't like Ianto's impatient tone (so different from the unwavering acceptance of his professional demeanour), and Ianto didn't like Jack's blasé attitude. At some point during the time that Ianto was sitting naked on the edge of the bath with his head hanging low, after having slipped silently out of bed and leaving the room, Jack gave in and followed. The apologies were mutual, and given the location, it had seemed prudent to share a bath.

A long, luxurious, messy bath which left Jack wondering why he'd waited so long to experience the joys of sex in warm water.

* * *

When Alice gave up with telegrams and opted for a telephone call, Jack was finally cornered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Harkness' residence... Mrs. Carter, what a pleasant surprise."

A rip could be heard as Jack clutched his newspaper too tightly, staring over the pages at Ianto with wide eyes. Ianto stared back at him, challenging him to take over the call, but Jack frantically shook his head and made cowardly gestures which Ianto frowned at as he attempted to decipher them.

"Yes ma'am, of course. No, Mr. Harkness is unavailable at present" Ianto told her, sending a hard look at Jack who had the decency to look sheepish. "Two telegrams? No... no, they must have been lost in transit. Yes ma'am, losing two telegrams in a week within a six mile distance _is_ a little troubling. Yes... yes, of course. I see, yes. Indeed, ma'am. Yes, I'll let Mr. Harkness know, Mrs. Carter. Thank _you_. Goodbye."

Ianto placed the receiver down with grace and turned to glare at his employer.

"I don't like explicitly lying for you, sir" he said in a low voice, tucking his hands behind his back.

"I know, Jones... I'm sorry" Jack replied, chewing on his lower lip. "What did she say?"

"Your aunt has a young lady for you to visit – a Miss Martha Jones, daughter of Dame Francine Jones. She wishes you to visit Prydon Manor in Merthyr Tydfil at the weekend, with a view to 'wooing' Miss Jones."

Jack snorted derisively, but schooled his expression when Ianto's glare failed to diminish.

"And if I don't?"

"She intends to drag you there herself, sir. Her precise words were '_get __him __to __Prydon, __Jones, __while __I'm __still __being __patient __with __him __or __I'll __be __forced __to __arrange __his __marriage __without __any __input __from __the __imbecile. __I __want __him __wed __before __the __year's __out'._"

Jack visibly shuddered, disturbed by both the message and Ianto's stony expression.

"Fine, I'll go" he sighed, "but I have no intention of enamouring myself to her. I've never even _met_ her."

"Nevertheless, sir, I shall ensure to pack your finest dinner suit for the visit" Ianto said, escaping to the kitchen in just three long strides before Jack could respond.

After a few moments, Jack went after him, a sinking feeling in his stomach overriding any previous fear.

"Jones?" he said gently, approaching slowly as if stalking a deer. Ianto stood at the sink, staring out of the window and at the people far below for a moment longer than was polite, before turning to his master with his mask firmly attached.

"Sir."

"Anybody would think you _wanted_ me to get married to this woman" Jack said, laughing nervously and swallowing a dry lump when Ianto didn't react.

"Do you?"

"Do I what, sir?"

Jack growled in frustration.

"Do you want me to marry this Margaret Jones, Jones?"

"Martha, sir."

"I don't care; answer the damn question!"

Ianto was silent for a long while, his eyes intense but showing no recognisable emotion. When finally he spoke, his voice was smaller than Jack had ever heard.

"It's nothing, sir, it's..." Ianto shrugged and turned away, gathering his thoughts. "I wonder how long we can keep doing this. Evading your aunt, deceiving young ladies, pretending this is all a game... one day I'm not going to have the answers. One day I'll fail you."

The words ceased, though he had so much more to say, and Jack reached for his hand. He stepped towards his valet, invading his personal space and after a moment's hesitation, pressed his forehead against the young man's temple.

"Honestly, Ianto? I'm just glad to know you share my fears" he said softly, feeling Ianto tense in response.

"You thought I didn't?" he replied, and Jack squeezed the unresponsive hand in his.

"You're a hard man to read. You seemed more accepting of all this than me... as if you'd made your peace with it. Which, I suppose I envied you for... but I still wished you were feeling the way I feel, every day... as if the dream might end at any moment."

Ianto turned his head, forcing Jack to break the connection. His eyes were shining more brightly than usual, his mask cracking around the edge when he spoke.

"I _do_ feel that way. I can't believe you doubted me."

"I didn't-"

"You doubted my feelings for you."

Jack hung his head, wishing he had Ianto's gift with words. Instead, he was all too adept at digging himself into deepening holes like this one.

"Ianto, I _know_ you love me. And I'm... pretty sure you'd spend your life with me, if you could. But you've got this kind of inner calm I've never had, and it just seemed... you seemed to be dealing with it better, that's all."

"Well, you were wrong" Ianto said firmly, his own gaze sinking to the floor.

"Yeah. I often am" Jack replied, trying a smile. Ianto's expression didn't change, but he wriggled his fingers in order to slot them more tightly between Jack's. Jack stared hard at him until Ianto's eyes flicked up once more, and the love and concern and pre-emptive mourning within them halted any further words from his employer. Thoughts of Martha Jones and Aunt Alice fled Jack's mind and he kissed his lover, the gesture one of comfort more than passion. He placed his spare hand firmly at the base of Ianto's spine to keep him close and fed him as much silent support as he could muster.

After a moment's hesitation, Ianto allowed his lips to part and Jack took full advantage, the kiss becoming intense to the point of breathlessness. Ianto had to wonder whether he'd even be able to look at Jack, once he was married. There was little chance of him being part of the household, but if he stayed in Wales and simply worked for somebody else... he would probably still see the man every so often. Would it be a comfort, to see him settled and married and finally a fully-developed member of society? To his shame, he knew that it wouldn't be the case, and for one terrible moment – before he swiftly chased the thought away – he wondered if the separation might make him cold and emotionless like Mr. Jones Snr.

"I don't know what's going to happen, Ianto" Jack whispered, breaking into his thoughts and butting the tip of his nose lightly against Ianto's. "My life since I met you... well, let's just say nothing seems certain."

He leaned back and smiled, letting go of Ianto's body and raising both hands to stroke the young man's cheekbones.

"Is it wrong that I just want to continue living each day as it comes and hoping for the best?" he asked softly, his eyes focussed on Ianto's lips.

"No. Naïve, perhaps, but not wrong" Ianto replied. "This isn't going to go away, Jack."

"I know. But talking about it doesn't help either."

"No."

Jack huffed a deep sigh, feeling himself sinking into the quagmire of own sadness.

"Would you like to go out tonight, sir?" Ianto suddenly asked, his voice stronger now and lacking its husky despair. Jack met his eyes, brows raised and blinking hard.

"Why, Ianto Jones... are you asking me out on a date?" he purred, realising with a start that he wasn't putting on an act.

"Perhaps, sir" Ianto replied, a cheeky smile brightening his eyes.

"I'd be delighted! Is my black and gold blazer clean?"

"Oh, sir, I'm terribly sorry... I haven't had the chance to wash it yet, and it _is_ absolutely filthy..."

Jack narrowed his eyes before laughing at the look on Ianto's face.

"Liar" he grumbled without malice. It was Ianto's turn to laugh, and as ever the simplest of contented moments lightened the gloomy mood. It was a relief to know that even as the sense of anxiety increased, they were still able to make each other smile.

This time, Ianto was the one to pull his lover close for a kiss, murmuring _"__I __love __you, __Jack__" _against his lips and revelling again in how right it felt to say it. Jack returned the sentiment without hesitation, and Ianto released a deep breath filled with his tension and fears. Their lips met once more before Jack grinned at his valet, flashing each of his perfect teeth with glee.

"Come along then, Jones! I do love showing you off..."

* * *

Dinner was quiet, uneventful and intimate, with a few sore subjects ignored in favour of more light-hearted themes. Jack scolded Ianto more than once for not eating all of his vegetables, eventually scooping them from his plate and stuffing them unceremoniously into his own mouth in a manner which should have repulsed Ianto. Instead he laughed, glancing around at the other patrons when the sound escaped more loudly than he'd anticipated, but Jack's warm smile of pleasure was worth the unwanted attention.

Afterwards, Jack insisted on a taxi to travel the tiny distance back to the flat, adding in a whisper "I can't _wait_ to get you home" and risking a kiss to the hinge of Ianto's jaw while the streets were relatively empty. Ianto was warmed by good wine and rich food, and by the time they were in the lift up to the flat, he was uncharacteristically leaning against Jack with what could only be described as a dreamy smile upon his face. Jack wrapped an arm around his hip and their steps synchronised, each feeling heavy and content. Jack turned his face and nuzzled it into Ianto's hair, murmuring erotic nothings to him as they approached the front door.

"You know what I really want to do, Ianto Jones? I want to take you against the window in the lounge, so that we can both look out over the city and at each other's reflections... and those people down there, they might catch a glimpse of your body against the glass... would you like that? What if I turned you around just before you came, and started licking my way up and down your-"

"JACK!"

The cry of Jack's name made Ianto instinctively jump away from his employer, startled by the sight of a short, slender young man with reddish hair and panicked eyes standing listlessly outside of Jack's flat.

"Smithy?" Jack enquired, blatantly adjusting the front of his trousers as he cast a worried look at his flustered valet, before returning his attention to the man in question. "Is that you? It's been ages!"

"I know, I'm sorry old bean, I've been travelling and... well, you know how it is" came the vague reply, coupled with a shrug.

"By which you mean you've been off with another girl and you're engaged again" Jack said dryly, and Ianto raised an eyebrow at the concept of Jack disapproving of a serial engager. The slight man bristled.

"Yes, actually!"

Jack ignored him.

"Jones, this is an old university friend of mine, Adam Smith. Smithy, this is my valet, Jones."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir" Ianto stated, sobriety returning to him as immediately as his arousal diminished.

"You too" Adam replied, not seeming to have even noticed Jack and Ianto's previously intimate proximity to one another.

"So... why exactly are you loitering outside my home?" Jack prompted his friend, throwing Ianto another look.

"Oh bugger, yes, well it's like this Jackie – I've forgotten the address! I'm supposed to be there tonight! And I couldn't remember your number but I hoped that you still lived here; I just couldn't think of anybody else to go to for help-"

"Wait, slow down, _whose_ address?"

"My fiancée's godmother, of course! Dame... Something of Something Manor! I almost stepped onto the train before I realised I'd lost the address, and Rose is off doing god-knows-what so I can't even call her, and-"

"Okay, you're not making any sense, Smithy. Just get inside" Jack sighed. Ianto took his cue and unlocked the door, watching as Adam shuffled nervously into the lounge and picking up the young man's suitcase from where it had been tucked behind his feet.

"I'm sorry about this, Ianto" Jack said softly, touching his lover's elbow from behind.

"Your friend is in need, sir" Ianto replied with a small smile. "Coffee?"

Jack nodded, watching as Ianto spun on his heel and strode to the kitchen. He'd seen Ianto become more relaxed by the second over dinner, smiling and laughing and making cheeky remarks. But in an instant, he was back to _Jones_, and that wasn't supposed to happen until the morning.

He quashed down his annoyance and plastered on a smile, sitting down opposite his twitching friend and reaching out to pat his knee.

"Now then Smithy, what exactly is the trouble? _Slowly_..."

"Right" Adam said, taking a deep breath. "I'm engaged to Rose Tyler. You've heard of her?"

Jack shifted a little. Yes, he'd heard of her. Her name had been bandied about in relation to Doc Smith once or twice immediately after he'd left Jack, and anybody who played a part in taking his ex-friend and lover away from him was not going to be viewed favourably. It seemed somehow apt that she'd managed to get her claws into another idealistic young Smith. Jack hoped he wouldn't be invited to the wedding; he might have a few choice words to say to the blushing bride.

"In passing" he said, waving a hand for Adam to continue.

"Well you see, even though we _are_ engaged, I have to go and impress her godmother and get her blessing. But I can't remember for the life of me where she lives!"

"Not even the town name?"

"No! It's just flown out of my head!"

"There's something seriously wrong with your memory, Smithy" Jack replied, shaking his head.

"Excuse me, sirs" Ianto interrupted politely as he stepped into the lounge carrying a silver tray, enveloping the room in the rich scent of coffee, "but if it is to Miss Tyler's godmother that Mr. Smith must present himself, I think you'll find that it is Dame Francine Jones of Prydon Manor."

"You mean the same Dame Francine Jones we're supposed to visit at the weekend?" Jack enquired, one eyebrow raised.

"Indeed so, sir."

"What a coincidence... well then Smithy, you can travel up with us, if you like!"

"Oh no, Rose expects me there _tonight_! I can't wait two more days!"

"Assert your independence, Smithy!" Jack snorted, taking a cup from Ianto and openly winking up at him. Ianto frowned, and Jack responded with a wide grin.

"I can't, I..." Adam wavered, biting his thumbnail. "She worries about me ever so much! I want to prove to her that I can do this, for _us_..."

"You can! But it's _far_ too late to catch the train now anyway. You can stay here if you like, sleep on the sofa."

Again Ianto frowned, but Jack ignored him.

It didn't take much to talk Adam around. When the coffee moved on to whiskey, he resisted whilst plaintively requesting orange juice for all of two minutes until Jack forced a tumbler into his hand. And when Adam announced with a stagger in his step that he was going to the Torchwood club to see some of their other mutual friends and have a few more belts (informing Jack that he was a "boring old sod" for not joining them in the process), he was waved off cheerfully with a promise that the front door would remain unlocked for his return.

"Ahh... peace at last" Jack announced, tugging Ianto down from his upright professional position to fall half on top of him. He pressed his nose against his lover's pulse point and breathed deeply, feeling the rhythm stutter.

"I'm surprised at your willingness to have Mr. Smith stay with us, sir" Ianto said, maintaining his even tone as he tilted his head, allowing Jack's lips better access to his throat.

"Three things are certain about Adam Smith, Jones. First of all, he's completely oblivious to almost everything. I could bend you over the coffee table and he wouldn't notice. Secondly, he's a total lightweight. And thirdly, if you allow him to drink he'll invariably develop a need to go out and socialise, making it easy to get rid of him."

"Ahh" Ianto replied with a smile, understanding all of Jack's behaviour now. "Will he be alright?"

"Yeah, he'll stagger in eventually and sleep like a baby; he won't cause us any trouble. For now, Ianto Jones... it's just you and me, in this room... whatever shall we do?"

* * *

Ianto watched the world through the haze of his own harsh breath on glass. Cardiff shone brightly below them, and the light which entered the flat was enough to be able to see the reflection of Jack's eyes from over his shoulder. His forehead touched the cool glass and his overheated body thanked him for it, as Jack slid his hands from pale hips and wrapped both arms tightly around Ianto's waist.

"Remember what I said to you after the wedding, Ianto?" Jack breathed, deepening his movements and relishing the quiver of his lover's body. "Here and now. Whatever happens, there's this."

Ianto was a man who liked to plan. He was organised, he knew what he should do and what he wanted – and how to reconcile the two. Right from the beginning, life with Jack had challenged everything he knew about his career and his life, and living for the moment had become a sometimes reluctant necessity. Now, he strived for it.

He turned his head and their lips met in an awkward, impassioned kiss which finally snapped the aching pressure within him. Jack held Ianto up as pleasure overcame him, then as he rode out his own climax they slid as one to their knees, watching as more and more of the city's lights flickered out. Jack's grip tightened possessively and he breathed in their combined scent, imagining doing this forever.

"If I have to marry anybody, I want it to be you" he mumbled, feeling foolish even as the words escaped his mouth. Ianto chuckled softly, leaning back in his arms.

"Neither of us can physically produce an heir, sadly" he joked, but Jack didn't laugh.

"I want it to be you" he repeated, pressing firm kisses to Ianto's nape, where the short hair was damp and beginning to curl. A chill had set upon them by the time Ianto replied, his voice warm and thoughtful as he stated in little more than a whisper,

"If only that were possible."


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

Ahoy-hoy boys and girls! It's that time again, and the closer I get to the end, the more difficult it becomes to write... I'm going to try to get ahead of myself for the next few weeks, otherwise by the time the final chapter comes around I'll just be too emotional to function. Thank you for all the great feedback last week - keep it coming!

By the way, a lovely Tumblr user called loving-that-officey-feel is drawing a picture of my Wodehouse-era Jack and Ianto after she posted a request for art prompts. I cannot _wait_ to see it, and I will of course link you all (the difficult FFnet way) to it when it's ready.

Tally ho!

* * *

"Sir, we have a small problem."

There were a handful of things that Jack was happy to be roused from sleep for. Sex was one of them, drink was another, and food came in at a close third. Problems, however, were not among the list.

"Have we run out of coffee?" he mumbled into the pillow, instinctively nuzzling his face more firmly into it to illustrate a point.

"No sir, nothing so terrible as that" Ianto dryly replied, and Jack had to chuckle. Knowing the image that awaited him would be worth the effort required, Jack rolled onto his back and looked up at his immaculate valet.

"Jones, you look good enough to eat" he said in the way of greeting, arching his back with a yawn.

"Very kind of you to say so, sir" the young man replied, smiling that special little intimate smile. "But we have a slightly more pressing issue. Mr. Smith has gone missing."

"Missing? Where?" Jack replied. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"If I was aware of the location, sir, he wouldn't be missing" he stated with a small shake of his head.

Jack somehow looked pleased with himself and sheepish all at once. _Only __he __could __manage __such __an __expression_, Ianto thought.

"Well then, any ideas?"

"To be perfectly honest sir, there is no evidence of him having returned to the flat at all..."

* * *

"Come on – think! Where could he have disappeared to?" Jack pondered aloud through a mouthful of marmalade-topped English muffin. Despite the (comparatively) early hour, he'd taken the trouble to have his bath and hop into his clothes, much to Ianto's surprise and awe. Now, he was pacing the lounge with his breakfast in hand, glancing at the clock every few minutes.

"I cannot fathom sir, but I fear that his disappearance won't bode well for his marriage to Miss Tyler, should he fail to arrive at Prydon Manor."

"Yes... and we know who'll be left to sort out his mess, Jones. Is Smithy's luggage still here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it."

"Indeed, sir."

"Right, well... I suppose there's nothing we can do but wait."

So wait they did. And when the telephone rang at just gone midday, both men suspected and hoped that they knew who was calling.

"Jack Harkness speaking."

"Jackie! Oh thank the lord! I'm in _so_ much trouble!"

Jack glanced at Ianto, giving him a grim smile of confirmation. Ianto rolled his eyes in response, stepping closer in a vain attempt to listen to the tinny connection.

"Calm down Smithy; what's happened?"

"Jack, I'm in stir! Fourteen days!"

"_What_?" Jack spluttered, mouthing '_arrested_' at his valet, whose eyes grew wide.

"Well... you see, I went down to the Torchwood Club last night as I said I would, and I saw old Mickey the Idiot and Trousers Halloran... and... oh gosh Jackie, it's too embarrassing..."

"Just tell me what happened Smithy, or I can't help you!" Jack said, exasperated.

"Well... it seemed like a good idea to streak down Mermaid Quay..."

Jack smacked himself in the forehead with the heel of his palm.

"Damn it Adam, how could even _you_ be so stupid as to strip off in public like that? You don't even have the body for it..."

Ianto ducked his head in an attempt to hide his smirk, but Jack's wink when he looked back up told him it hadn't worked.

"Oi! Well... you know... look, that's besides the point! I'm stuck here at the police station and they reckon I won't get released for two weeks! What am I going to do, Jackie? If I don't turn up at Prydon Manor, Dame Francine will _never_ give me permission to marry Rose... and if either of them find out about me landing in chokey, she won't marry me anyway!"

"Yes, yes, alright Smithy, just calm down... let me think for a second."

With an unusual level of speed, Jack began to formulate a plan which would save both himself and Adam Smith from horrible fates. Glancing at an expectant-looking Ianto, he wondered whether he should talk the idea through with his valet before suggesting it to his friend... but eventually decided against it. Ianto would only offer up some annoyingly clear logic which exposed his plan as something other than brilliant, and he didn't want to hear it this time.

"Jackie, please..."

"Alright, I've got it. I'll go down to Prydon Manor early and pretend to be you."

"What? How on earth will that work?" Adam squeaked, while Ianto violently shook his head. Jack ignored him.

"Easily, old fruit! You won't get into trouble with Rose, I can easily charm the knickers off Dame Francine for you, and you'll have her blessing in no time! She doesn't already know what you look like, does she?"

"Well... no... I've never met her... and I don't think Rose has described me to her... and I _know_ she won't actually be at the wedding – she's a complete shut-in and refuses to leave the Manor..."

"Then it's perfect!"

"Jack, I'm not so sure about this..."

"Don't worry Smithy, nobody has to know. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"How is it mutu-"

"Got to go, Smithy – call again soon!"

"Sir, you _can't_" Ianto stated in a warning tone as soon as the receiver was slammed back down with enthusiasm.

"I fail to see why not, Jones" Jack grinned, "this way, Smithy doesn't get into trouble with the little woman, and I'm safe from the clutches of this Martha character."

Jack spun away from the telephone table and swept back into the lounge, collapsing with a contented sigh upon his faithful sofa.

"What happens when your aunt discovers that you've failed to attend Prydon Manor, sir?" Ianto countered, following with his hands behind his back.

"Oh, not much" Jack stated, waving a hand dismissively.

"I wish you'd take her threats seriously, sir" Ianto replied, his voice quieter and a little resigned. Jack risked a glance up at him, sighing at the haunted look on his face. He stood, capturing Ianto's sculpted cheeks in his hands, and stared into his eyes.

"Living for the moment, remember?" he said softly, searching his lover's gaze. "This is no different from any of our other adventures, Ianto. I'm just helping out a friend, and it happens to be helpful to me, too."

"I really don't think you've thought this through, sir" Ianto stated, his brow marred with concern.

"Trust me on this" Jack replied, nodding with encouragement. "Please?"

"It's not a question of trust, sir."

Ianto gave him a weak smile and a quick kiss to remove the slight hurt from Jack's eyes, shaking off the palms that were curled around his jaw.

"It'll be alright as long as you're with me, Jones" Jack added, forcing a grin.

"I'm sorry to say, sir, that I could not possibly attend Prydon Manor with you."

Jack pouted, _actually_ pouted, and Ianto struggled not to laugh.

"What the hell d'you mean, you can't come? Why not?"

"Sir, I'm afraid The Harwood Society wouldn't look too kindly on a gentleman's gentleman sailing, as it were, under false colours."

"Oh."

"Indeed, sir."

"Well... what are you going to do?"

"Perhaps it would be wise for me to visit the police station, placate Mr. Smith, and possibly attempt to remove him from the clutches of the constabulary a little earlier than the allocated imprisonment time. Assuming Dame Francine Jones does give the marriage her blessing, the issue of Mr. Smith being out of touch with his bride-to-be for two weeks is still a present one."

Jack huffed a heavy sigh, placing his hands on his hips. His pout had diminished slightly in the face of sense, but he was clearly unhappy with the situation. Again, Ianto kissed him, and Jack quickly wrapped his arms around his lover's waist to keep him close.

"Fine, Ianto. You look after Smithy. I only have to be there for a couple of days, then I'll zoom back and we'll have all this ironed out."

Ianto wondered who Jack was trying to convince, but there was clearly no talking him out of his master plan. _This __cannot go well_ he thought, pressing his frown into the warm skin of Jack's throat. _Something __is __going __to happen__, __I __can __feel __it. __Something __I __can't __stop._

* * *

Jack left the flat for Merthyr an hour later, leaving his lover alone with only his sense of foreboding for company. For much longer than he normally would allow himself, Ianto sat out on the balcony, finding that looking over his homeland was a fine medicine for a racing mind. Not since he was a young boy, torn between his true passions and his inevitable career, had he felt so conflicted. It was a similar situation, in fact – there was the pull of the romantic in him, the one who adored Jack, who was obsessed and possessed by him, who wanted to be his lover for their entire lives... and the realistic path, the one which resulted in a safe marriage and a contented, pacified aunt. The one that would quite possibly result in a similar fate for Ianto, though he found it impossible to imagine settling down with anybody.

Anybody but Jack.

Fear tightened and expanded in his chest, and he was startled by the unfamiliar effects of true panic. Yet no matter how much he studied the situation, he couldn't find a single solid escape route that wouldn't completely disgrace Jack and his family. _I __can __help every__body __but __myself_, he thought bitterly, and sloped silently back into the flat.

* * *

By the time Jack arrived at the illustrious Prydon Manor, he'd had several solitary hours in which to convince himself that his plan was an ingenious one. The little voice that screamed denials and warnings at him was soundly ignored, as was Ianto's lack of faith. An awareness that he was clutching at straws was present, but not a focus, and if he thought too hard about the true reasoning behind his plan he'd succumb to terror.

So it was that he hopped out of the car and strode towards the Manor with his focus placed solely on a single train of thought, relying on it to get him through several days without Ianto Jones.

"Evening, all!" he greeted the head butler cheerily as the door was opened. The elderly man narrowed his eyes, looking Jack up and down with a gaze that seemed to penetrate all the way through and emerge on the other side.

"Mr. Smith?" he enquired, and Jack nodded without hesitation.

"That's me, here to get the ol' nod of approval from Dame Francine" Jack beamed. The butler looked sceptical.

"Please come in, sir" he eventually said, shuffling aside in an over-exaggerated show of good manners. Jack stepped in and dropped his case beside his own feet, taking in the dark and gloomy entrance hall. _Not __especially __welcoming_ he thought to himself, referring both to the house and the reception.

"Right, well, I suppose I'd better get to my room and prepare for dinner" Jack prompted, and was rewarded with a glare.

"Dinner has already begun, sir. The Jones household eats at five-thirty sharp" the butler informed him in a clipped voice. Jack's brows raised of their own volition in surprise, and he was just working towards a thrilling response when the aged servant continued:

"Your case will be taken to the main guest suite, Mr. Smith. For now, please proceed to the dining room."

Jack found himself shepherded along the hall and bundled into a grand but intimidating space, filled in part by an exceedingly long table, around which were gathered several women of varying ages and reactions to his entrance.

"Mr. Smith, you're very late" the woman at the head of the table – Dame Francine, Jack guessed – snapped on sight of him. Her natural beauty was somewhat marred by a severe frown, overstated with the aid of thick, forbidding eyebrows.

"Rose told me in her letter that you would arrive yesterday" she said, and before Jack could utter his pre-planned excuse, she ordered him to sit down.

"You'll have to forego the soup and the fish" she sighed in irritation, taking a moment to introduce him to the other women around the table, four of whom were sisters of hers and one was the Martha Jones that Jack's aunt had wanted him to meet. She was, he had to concede, extraordinary beautiful, but he knew he was safe from any union with her when she simply raised a bored eyebrow and returned her attention to her wine glass.

"A pleasure to meet you all" Jack stated with what he hoped was a genuine grin. A row of frowns was the reply, and he was beyond grateful when the main course was set down in front of him. Perhaps Dame Francine wouldn't be so easily charmed as anticipated, but Jack was determined to go forth with his plan no matter what.

An uncomfortable silence flooded the room and Jack could feel at least one set of disapproving eyes on him at all times, as he dredged up the memories of his best table manners. By the time Dame Francine deigned to talk to him again they were onto coffee, and Jack was relieved at having the opportunity to begin mending bridges.

"The nephew of an acquaintance of mine is also supposed to be visiting later in the week, I wonder if you know him – a Mr. Harkness."

"Jack Harkness? Oh yes, well, I know him by reputation of course" Jack grinned, and Francine pursed her lips.

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Apparently he's _completely _irresponsible. Alice has said she often wonders if the kindest thing would be to put him in some kind of home..."

She took a casual sip of her coffee while Jack spluttered into his own, eyes widening.

"Well of all the damn ner-" he cut himself off quickly, noting the gasps of disapproval around him. He schooled his expression into a broad smile, and decided a change of tack was required.

"Well now, ladies, have you ever heard the one about the fan dancer and the one-armed barman?"

* * *

By the time Jack had recovered from receiving a five-way verbal slap (Martha herself hadn't seemed bothered – or amused – by the saucy joke), he was alone and abandoned while the Jones staff cleared the dining room around him. He ignored their pointed looks and pondered when his charm had begun to fail him. It was going to take a _lot_ of work to gain Dame Francine's favour for Adam now.

He was just dragging himself up the stairs towards his bed for the night when the terse butler answered the door to a short, sharp ring which Jack had barely registered. However, when the voices of the men who entered penetrated his mind, Jack spun around mid-step with his mouth hanging open. There, removing their coats and offering apologies for the late hour, were Ianto Jones and Adam Smith.

"Mr. Harkness, we weren't expecting you until Friday, sir" the butler said to Adam, who glanced worriedly at Ianto before he answered; "err, yes, so sorry, but we had to catch the train and I was told that there would be engineering work on the line this Friday, so I thought... no time like the present!"

"Very good, sir" came the pleasant reply, and Jack wondered briefly why he hadn't garnered the same civility. He could only watch, agog, as the butler picked up the newest set of luggage and strode past him up the stairs with a glare. Jack ignored him, instead waiting until the coast was clear before dashing down the steps to meet his friend and lover.

"The frightened fish look doesn't suit you, Jackie" Adam said, and Jack closed his mouth with an indignant scowl.

"What the _hell_ are you two doing here? What's going on? And why are you calling yourself Mr. Harkness?" he hissed, feeling his only plan fall down around his ears.

"When you left, sir, I went to the police station to talk at length with the chief constable about Mr. Smith's situation" Ianto informed him, looking irritatingly calm. "Eventually, he agreed to substitute the fourteen days' imprisonment for a fine, given Mr. Smith's level of inebriation and gullibility at the time. I was unable to inform you, as it happened while you were already on your way here. As such, the fine was settled immediately, and Mr. Smith and I were able to catch the train to Merthyr within an hour."

"So you freed Smithy, scraped him up and brought him to Prydon Manor?"

"Yes, sir."

"But _why_? This throws my plan completely out of sync, Jones!"

"Because, sir, as inventive as your plan was, in the event of you failing to arrive enquiries would have been instituted by Mrs. Carter with unpleasant results."

"So despite my telling you this very morning not to worry about what Aunt Alice would do, you went behind my back and took it upon yourself to defy me?" Jack stated, folding his arms over his chest in a familiar defensive stance.

"Yes, sir" Ianto replied, a tiny upward movement of his chin telling Jack that he wasn't going to back down.

"And now, we have to pretend to be each other for several days... well, this is just perfect, Jones."

"Hang on Jackie, don't be so hard on your man" Adam interrupted, stepping forward with an appeasing hand on Jack's arm. "I couldn't very well turn up and say 'ignore that other fellow, I'm the real Adam Smith'. They'd chuck us both out for being loonies. All you have to do is continue with _your_ plan, charming Dame Francine and so forth, while I generally keep away from Martha and show no interest."

Jack opened and closed his mouth before looking abashed, and Adam smirked.

"Yes, Jones told me you were meant to be here to woo Martha, Jack. Now I see what you meant about mutually beneficial. But don't worry about that, I don't see any girl other than Rose. You'll leave here still unattached, and I'll leave with an adoring godmother-in-law on my side. It's perfect. Just remember, _your_ name is Adam Smith and _mine_ is Jack Harkness, and we'll be fine. Ceaseless vigilance, Jackie."

Adam patted his shoulder and skipped happily up the stairs towards the second guest room, leaving Jack and Ianto to stare each other down.

Jack was the first to break, finally sighing and shaking his head, unsure how he felt about this turn of events.

"Alright Jones, I admit you're better at the plans... but this has just confused matters."

"Whilst not being the most foolproof of ideas, it seemed the best course of action to prevent an unfortunate backlash, sir."

"Why are you so afraid of my aunt, Jones?" Jack said, and Ianto's eyes widened momentarily.

"Why aren't you, sir?" he replied, and his master's entire body sagged a little.

"Because I'm tired of feeling that way" he said quietly, looking at the walls, the floor – anywhere other than Ianto's penetrative gaze. "Jones, when I met you, I stopped being scared. But now..."

He trailed off, and Ianto finished his sentence for him.

"You're more afraid than ever, sir. It's forcing you to make foolish decisions, if I may be so bold."

"You may not, Jones" Jack frowned, meeting his eyes; "and at least I'm trying. What are _you_ doing?"

"Taking each day as it comes, sir... as you told me to" Ianto replied, his voice soft and vulnerable. Jack immediately regretted the harshness of his words and dragged his tense lover into a close embrace, uncaring of whether any staff might still be milling around and able to see them.

"I'm sorry Ianto, I didn't mean that" he whispered, willing the younger man's muscles to relax. Ianto chose not to reply, unsure whether he believed the statement or not, and rubbed at the broad expanse of Jack's back before pulling away as subtly as he could.

Jack's eyes were bright and apologetic, and when Ianto offered a hesitant smile, Jack returned the expression.

"So... you're Smithy's valet for the next couple of days" Jack said, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

"Yes sir, for the sake of continuity."

"Of course, of course. So, umm... if he's Jack Harkness for the next few days, I suppose you'll be sneaking out of your own room and into his every night."

Ianto raised a cool eyebrow, and Jack's smile became natural.

"Jealous, sir?" he asked, and his lover had to chuckle.

"I don't know Jones, should I be?"

Ianto simply gazed at him, the look in his eyes almost coy.

"Perhaps I should remind you who you belong to, young man" Jack murmured, leaning in close. Ianto's lips twitched at the corners as he huskily replied "as you wish", and then they were climbing the stairs hip-to-hip, hearts set on dissolving some of their shared tension in bed.

But while both hearts were in it, their minds were elsewhere.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

Pip pip, all! It's that time again. I had another lull in reviews again this week... but I can't say I'm surprised this time.

On that subject, to be perfectly honest, I'm deeply unhappy with this chapter. I'm really hoping for a good amount of feedback on this, because I think that maybe I'm being more harsh on myself than usual as the story approaches its end. It's certainly getting harder to write, because I want to finish it in a manner deserving of something that's gone on for so long with such loyalty, so please don't be afraid to let me know how it reads. I contemplated deleting the entire second half as it completely spun away from me, but - fingers crossed - maybe it's not as bad as I think.

TTFN!

* * *

The morning after the arrival at Prydon Manor passed with a surprising lack of event. Jack, on his valet's advice, had kept out of the family's way, pointing out that the Jones women may need a little time to recover from his dramatic entrance before he attempted to charm them again. Adam, they assumed, was doing the same and as Jack and Ianto settled themselves within a shaded, private part of the Manor's grounds, Jack began to regain a little of his confidence in their shared scheme.

"You know, Jones... this might all work out after all" he declared, swinging his feet up onto a spare garden seat and squinting against the autumnal sun. Ianto said nothing, instead leaning back into his own chair next to Jack's after he'd been persuaded not-so-gently to sit down. Relaxing in public – even around Jack – remained something Ianto struggled with, as a man whose life's motto had always been _image __is __everything_. The unpleasant irony of the statement given his current situation with Jack was not lost on him.

Jack turned to face him, the midday light giving his skin a more golden hue than usual. He smiled at Ianto – a far more intimate expression than he every offered anybody else – and as ever, it soothed Ianto's troubled mind like a balm. _How__does__he__do__that?_ he wondered, marvelling at the power Jack held over him. He smiled tentatively back, and allowed his shoulders to slump a little in their rigid cotton confines.

"So, Jones" Jack began, his voice suddenly quieter and more reserved. "How on earth did you know that Dame Francine was Rose Tyler's godmother? Do you know _everything_?"

Ianto chuckled, shaking his head a little.

"I really don't know, sir."

Jack laughed too, allowing his head to fall back lazily.

"Actually sir, I do have a particularly sizeable knowledge of the Tyler-Jones alliance. Many years ago my father was valet to Mr. Peter Tyler, Miss Tyler's late father."

"Is that so?" Jack enquired, resting his chin on one balled fist like a child awaiting an exciting tale of adventure.

"Yes, sir. My father once referred to Mrs. Tyler, Dame Francine Jones and her sisters, in a rare moment of grim jocularity, as the greatest enemies of Perseus."

Jack laughed much more loudly this time, the sound carefree and booming.

"Their collective glares sure turned me cold as stone last night, Jones!"

"I can well imagine, sir."

"I take it your dad didn't often crack jokes, then."

Ianto's tight-lipped attempt at a smile emerged as more of a grimace, and his one-shouldered shrug was almost imperceptible.

"No, sir. He wasn't one for humour."

Silent reigned for a moment or two before Ianto decided to broach a subject that had been tickling the edges of his mind since Adam first mentioned his fiancée.

"Sir... Miss Tyler... she was a travelling companion of the Mr. John Smith you were once close to, was she not?"

Jack visibly stiffened, almost folding in on himself in defence.

"I believe so, Jones."

Quiet fell again, and Jack narrowed his eyes.

"Why do you ask?"

"There are a lot of John Smiths in the world, sir. I simply wondered whether it was the same man."

"Yes, it was... definitely him." Jack lowered his head, glancing at Ianto briefly through his eyelashes before continuing.

"You know Jones, the last time his name came up in conversation, you said you thought he'd been my lover at some point."

"Yes sir, I remember."

"I never actually confirmed it, did I?"

"No, sir."

"Well... you were right. He was. Not my first, but I thought for a while he might be my last."

It was Ianto's turn to settle back for a story, gazing with inquisitive eyes at his master.

"The Doc was... is... an extraordinary guy. I changed pretty much everything I was to be who he wanted me to be" Jack explained, his voice low and somewhat embarrassed. "Somehow, he made me forget everything I already knew about relationships and I was suddenly hopelessly naïve, always nipping at his heels like a lost dog. I don't know how he does it, I really don't. Whatever he's got, he should bottle it and make a fortune."

Jack forced a soft chuckle, fiddling with his cuff links in a rare show of true discomfort.

"What happened, sir?" Ianto softly prompted, reminding Jack of his company and his support.

"Oh, he dropped me, as people do" Jack said with a faux-casual wave of his hand. "He just... disappeared one day. I still hear about him occasionally, at The Torchwood Club."

"What would you do if you saw him again, sir?"

"First, I'd kiss him" Jack immediately replied, not missing the flicker of surprise in Ianto's eyes. "And then, I'd have to rely on you to hold me back... because I might just try to kill him."

"I may struggle not to interfere with the former activity also, sir" Ianto quietly replied, a slight smirk brightening his face.

"You're always free to show your possessive streak with me, Jones" Jack replied, reaching for his lover's hand to squeeze it quickly. "No, in actual fact, I wouldn't go near him. I wouldn't even ask

why, I don't think. Because I bent over backwards for that man... sometimes literally..." Jack paused, allowing Ianto a moment to roll his eyes, "and I still wasn't good enough. I had no idea, back then, how much better it would feel to be loved for who I am already."

Jack watched the tips of Ianto's ears suffuse with a rosy pink blush, and he grinned at the young man. He supposed Ianto had his own power over him too – that bone-deep desire Jack felt to gain his approval, to be a better person for him – but it was quiet and subtle and fuelled by a love that wasn't at all one-sided.

"Will it be a comfort, sir? To know that I love you for who you are, when you're married to somebody else?"

The words had slipped from his lips before Ianto had time to chase them away, cursing himself and his newly loosened tongue even as he spoke. The loss of Jack's smile was instantaneous, and the tension between them returned in full force. Ianto opened his mouth to say something – anything – to remove the frown from Jack's face when Adam Smith called out in outrage from across the lawn. Ianto was immediately on his feet, resuming his professional image and greeting Jack's friend with a courteous nod as he approached.

"Jackie Harkness, what on earth have you been saying to drag my name through the mud?" he hissed, marching up to Jack with bulging eyes and balled fists.

"What are you talking about, Smithy?" Jack replied, diverting his attention from the sting of Ianto's logic.

"You, telling unseemly anecdotes at the dinner table! How well did you think that was going to go down around six refined women, eh? And if that's not bad enough, they're all tugging their skirts aside thinking I'm Jack Harkness, as if I'm a complete scourge to the feminine species all of a sudden!"

"Your reputation precedes you, sir" Ianto interjected, causing an unwitting snort to catch in Jack's throat.

"Look Smithy, I can't help it if they're... conservative!" Jack said with exaggerated scorn. "Anyway, all _you_ have to do is keep out of the way, remember? I'm the one who has to dial up the charm, here."

"Make sure you do, Jack. My wedding depends on it!" Adam huffed, shaking his too-long ginger fringe from his eyes.

"Mr. Harkness!" an impatient female voice called out from the direction of the house, causing them all to turn towards the noise. _Of __course, __a __quiet __morning __in __the __sun __was __too __good __to __be __true, _Jack thought.

"She means Mr. Smith, sir" Ianto quietly reminded Jack, who nodded and bit his tongue. Dame Francine Jones came into view from around a horse-shaped shrubbery, pursing her lips on sight of the threesome.

"There you are, Mr. Harkness" she sighed, stopping in front of Adam. Though she was perhaps only two or three inches taller than the slight young man, she seemed to tower over him as her powerful demeanour enveloped everything and everyone within at least a five foot radius.

"Mr. Harkness, Martha is in the sewing room" she said to him, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial murmur and looking for a moment as if she was about to accompany the tone with a wink. Adam stared blankly back at her.

"And?"

Dame Francine looked at him as if he was beyond stupid.

"I thought you might like to... _talk_ with her, Mr. Harkness" she continued. Adam's eyes widened in realisation and his mouth formed a perfect 'O'. _Now __who's __a __frightened __fish_ Jack thought to himself, struggling to contain his smirk.

"Oh... yes... right... Martha" Adam stammered. He glanced at Jack and Ianto with sheer panic on his face, before scuttling away towards the Manor. Jack was just attempting to remind his friend of who he was supposed to be and to avoid Martha's charms via telepathy, when he realised Francine was speaking to him.

"Hmm? What?" he asked, getting that turning-to-stone feeling again when he met her dark, severe gaze.

"I said, are you in the habit of remaining seated when a lady, and a Dame at that, is in your presence, Mr. Smith?"

Jack immediately sprung from his seat, forcing his most winning smile onto his face.

"Of course not, Dame Francine, please forgive me" he simpered, and her frown deepened.

"Rose failed to mention that her fiancé was an American" she replied, and her disdain was palpable.

"Ahh, yes... well... I'm not, actually, but I've spent plenty of time over there. I'm actually from Scotland."

Jack immediately knew that he'd made it worse, as Dame Francine seemed to physically reel further away from him.

"Well... these things can't be helped, I suppose" she said, looking as if she'd eaten something distinctly sour. "And what on Earth have you been doing out here all morning, Mr..."

She indicated towards Ianto, who smoothly replied "Jones, ma'am."

"Jones, yes. Why have you been with Mr. Smith and not your master?"

"Mr. Harkness agreed to lend me, as it were, to Mr. Smith so that I could aid him in writing his daily correspondences to Miss Tyler, ma'am. Mr. Smith is enormously in love with Miss Tyler, but he has difficulty expressing these emotions on paper. Therefore, Mr. Harkness generously offered him the use of my own humble eloquence."

Dame Francine seemed at a loss for words for a moment, giving Ianto a long, appraising look before nodding decisively.

"Very good, Mr. Jones. I'm pleased to know that he has some guidance in this matter, and doesn't speak to my god-daughter the way he speaks to other women."

Dame Francine shot Jack one final glower, and left him with his mouth hanging unappealingly open.

Ianto cleared his throat, watching the woman depart. He could sense Jack trying to recover himself next to him, and he just couldn't resist one last wry remark:

"Excellent work in dialling up the charm, sir. Bravo."

"Shut up, Jones."

* * *

"Alright Smithy, you've got to let me in on the secret" Jack slurred, nursing yet another whiskey in his own suite as the clock approached nine.

"What d'you mean?" Adam dopily replied, equally inebriated after only half the amount of alcohol.

"You've not stopped grinning since dinner! What's with you? Got a saucy telegram from Rose, eh? Eh?"

He nudged Adam a little too hard, almost shoving him off the tiny guest sofa they'd squeezed onto.

"Oi! Rose isn't that type of girl!" Adam objected.

"S'not what I heard" Jack replied with a giggle, laughing harder when his friend scowled. "C'mon, what is it?"

Adam's hard expression remained until he broke into a fresh smile a moment later, his eyes softening.

"Martha Jones" he murmured, and Jack blinked rapidly, sure he'd misheard.

"Excuse me?"

"Martha, Jackie. She's an angel! Voice of a nightingale, that girl... and beautiful? Why, I've never seen her equal!"

Jack pushed himself up in his seat, suddenly sobered as effectively as if a bucket of chilled water had been thrown over him.

"Smithy... correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds as if you've fallen for this Martha woman..."

"How could anybody not, she's perfection!" Adam announced, beaming at nothing with glazed eyes.

"What about Rose?" Jack asked, his voice sounding hysterical even to his own ears. "Remember Rose, Smithy? The woman you're here to get approval for marrying?"

"Ahh, Rose" Adam sighed, shaking his head. "Rose doesn't understand me, Jackie. Not like Martha. Today in the parlour, Martha just let me talk, and it all came spilling out. All the loneliness, the not feeling worthy... you see, I'm always chasing after Rose, but I'm not convinced she loves me back. It's as if she's expecting something more, but I'm just an ordinary man!"

Even through a wave of panic, Jack felt a startling sense of empathy for Rose. If she'd met Adam immediately after her travels with Doc Smith ended, Jack really couldn't blame her for looking for something exciting around every corner and being disappointed when it didn't come. He'd certainly been there.

"But Martha, oh Jackie, she barely said a word to me but she just... I don't know... I just _knew_ she _got_ me... you know?"

"Smithy, this is just absurd! You can't go falling for this girl when you're pretending to be _me_! You were supposed to ignore her! Don't you understand what a damned mess you're going to make?"

Adam shot out of his seat far more quickly than a man as tipsy as him should have been able to do, and glared down at his friend as he dropped his empty tumbler unceremoniously onto his seat.

"Look Jack, not everything is about _you_ and your silly schemes! I know it's fast, but I think I bally well love Martha Jones, and I won't have you ruining it!"

"Damn it Smithy, I came here to protect _your_ marriage!" Jack yelled back, rising to his feet and looming over Adam by half a foot.

"No you didn't, you came here to protect yourself!" the slighter man retorted, lifting his chin in defiance. "And anyway, I didn't ask you to come up with this ridiculous plot! If you're so against marrying a goddess like Martha, why don't you just announce that you're a raging queer and be done with it!"

Jack's brows shot upwards, his eyes growing huge and round as if he'd succumbed to mania.

"What?" he growled, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. Adam had the good sense to recoil slightly, shrinking from battle.

"Well, it's... it's just... uhh... I just heard some whispers at the club, that all" he spluttered, shoving listless hands into his trouser pockets.

"Who from?" Jack demanded.

"Err... oh, I'm not sure really, umm..."

"_Who. __From?__"_

"Knobby Harper" Adam squeaked. "He's telling everyone, Jackie... he's saying you've turned, you know, homosexual. I mean, I really don't care who you want to shag, but you know what some of them are like, and if the rumour goes further than the club, you could get into a lot of troub-"

"Yes, alright Smithy, I think it's time to call it a night."

Adam risked a look up at his friend and nodded, shuffling around him and escaping to his own bedroom. Jack collapsed back onto the little sofa, staring blankly at the grim brown carpet beneath his feet. The fact that Owen Harper was spreading rumours of Jack's sexuality wasn't, despite the jarring effect of the words, a surprise. Jack had expected it long before now, if not from Owen then from Toshiko. And what he hated the most was not that some of his old friends might think ill of him, that they may stop speaking to him or even that he could potentially be banned from the club – but that his reputation was stained.

Jack scowled to himself with the acknowledgement of his own vanity. Aside from the legal implications, he shouldn't care... he _loved_ Ianto, and though he'd struggled with his dual sexuality in the past, he was at peace with the fact that he shared his bed with a man. However, for a gentleman of his social standing, image was everything... image was what cemented the natural assumption that he would absolutely _have_ to get married. Image was something to be cherished and guarded, to maintain the good name of the family. Image had him straddling the line between what was done, and what he wanted. The troubling business of Adam's feelings for Martha were temporarily disregarded, as Jack sank into the darkening recesses of his own self-disgust.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed before a gleaming pair of Oxfords stepped neatly into his line of sight, but the voice from above was as soothing as a cool compress to his aching forehead.

"You look exhausted, sir."

Jack didn't response, unsure of what to say, and those feet shuffled slightly as Ianto crouched down between his knees and forced their eyes to meet.

"What happened, Jack?" he murmured, bright eyes shining with concern in the low light.

"Where have you been all evening?" came the evasive response, and Ianto gave an apologetic smile.

"I became ensnared in a conversation with the head chef, and was forbidden to leave until I'd tried a sample of her steak and kidney pudding. Then she decided that I'm too thin, and attempted to force a little of _everything_ into me. The time slipped away from me entirely, sir, for which I apologise."

Jack nodded, patting Ianto's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you have somebody to talk to."

Ianto frowned, placing both hands on Jack's knees. The anxiety in his expression made Jack's eyes sting with emotion. The sudden knowledge that Ianto was not always going to be his safe place, his solace, his calm in a storm... that one day, he'd be gone, and Jack's hollow shell would lie in ruins behind him...

"I'm so lost, Ianto" he blurted out, twin tears tumbling down his cheeks. "I'm torn and scared and it's all going to hell..."

Ianto didn't hesitate for a second, pulling Jack down into his arms and clinging tightly in an effort to suppress the trembles racking his lover's body. Though he knew Jack inside and out, and what that boisterous mask hid, it terrified Ianto when it became obvious that Jack couldn't cope, no matter what had occurred tonight. He had seen it at the wedding, afterwards as well, then again when Jack was avoiding Alice's telegrams, and now... now he was reaching breaking point. And Ianto didn't have the answer.

This was the failure to help that he had felt approaching for days. This was the one thing he didn't have an answer for. The arrival of the inescapable breakdown should have been a relief, but instead a brand new pain lanced through Ianto's very core, as all of the frustration he fought so hard to tamp down threatened to choke him. The frantic need to _keep __Jack __happy, __make __him __smile, __love __him __as __he __deserves __to __be __loved_ was dizzying as it hit him like a physical blow, and he knew he couldn't afford, right at this moment, to listen to reason.

Reaching a decision, Ianto shoved away his continual sense of logic, suppressed that gnawing inevitability which haunted him and clasped Jack's damp face in his hands. A final look into Jack's bloodshot eyes told him that he was making the right choice, and he took a strengthening breath.

"Jack, I'm always going to be your anchor" he said quietly, and Jack immediately shook his head.

"No, you're not, that's the whole damn problem" he whispered back, fresh moisture dripping from his lashes.

"Yes, I am" Ianto confirmed, tightening his grip on Jack's jaw. "Jack... the entire point in my life is to make yours easier. I... I want to be here for you, whatever happens. Whoever you end up marrying, I will do everything in my power to remain with you, somehow."

Jack finally met his eyes, the anguish in his expression clearing a little and making way for confusion.

"I won't be allowed to keep a valet, Ianto. You know how Aunt Alice hates for anybody but her to influence me..."

"Perhaps not, but I could still be part of the household in another role. A butler perhaps, _anything..._"

"No, Ianto, I won't let you abandon your career _or_ your freedom" Jack said firmly, his tears ceasing as he tried to shake himself free of Ianto's grip. "You can't give anything else up for me."

"Damn it Jack, can't I make my own decisions?" Ianto growled, his fingers still digging into the delicate skin behind Jack's ears. "You _need_ me, and..." he paused, his own face momentarily crumpling into despair. "I need _you_."

The thought of seeing Jack daily and not being able to touch, of watching a family grow around him sent a wave of nausea rocketing through his body. Then there was the horrifying possibility of Jack falling in love with his future wife... but still, Ianto would be there if Jack needed him. He _had_ to be. This was his purpose, and he couldn't go on knowing that the man he loved had nobody to support him. Even if his own soul was utterly destroyed in the process.

Jack stared into his eyes, searching for the reasoning for his sudden change of heart. Ianto had always been the one to acknowledge that they would never be able to remain together, even if – as had recently transpired – he hadn't been coping any better than Jack with the information. Jack had assumed, though he didn't like to dwell on it, that Ianto would move on when they were separated and try for a new life. Now, he was clutching with tooth and nail to what was seemingly a lost cause. There was a desperation in his face, and Jack was suddenly aware of how enormously pathetic he must seem to a man like Ianto, to make him give up what little he had to remain by his side.

And yet, through his shame, a tiny ray of hope shone. Perhaps it could work. Perhaps, even if he could never kiss or touch his love again (he wouldn't ever cheapen Ianto's affections by continuing to persue him while he himself was married), he could still keep the young man near, as a friend and confidante. He could see his secret smile every day, and know that somebody in the world wanted him to be happy.

Adam's words repeated in his mind - "_not __everything __is __about __you_" - and Jack knew that his own sense of selfishness had reached dizzying heights. But if Ianto wanted the same thing... _he's __saying __what __he __thinks __you __want __to __hear_, a little voice hissed, but it went unheard.

"Are you sure about this?" Jack murmured, curling his hands around Ianto's shoulder-blades and holding as tightly as his lover was holding him.

_No. God, no. I don't want to see you every day if I you can't be mine. I don't want to be relegated to a lower form of servitude. I don't want to watch you become a socialite with your wife, or your children bloom around you, or... god forbid... see you forget about our love. What we shared. What we're only barely clinging to right now. But I made a promise to be everything you need, for as long as you need me. And I always keep my promises._

"Yes, Jack. Of course I'm sure."

He prayed that his smile looked more genuine than he felt, and Jack slithered to the floor to get closer to him, kissing him so longingly that the edges of Ianto's mind seemed to melt away. It was always the same pattern: attempt to talk, kiss, abandon difficult topic for another day. The next time this occurred, Ianto was sure that it would be following Jack's engagement, and he could already taste finality on Jack's lips. The uncertainty was wearing him down more by the minute, and he absorbed Jack's caresses as if they were keeping him alive.

"I told you I'd always keep you by my side" Jack breathed, the scent of whiskey wafting over Ianto's face. "I _do_ need you, Ianto Jones."

Ianto bumped his forehead lightly against Jack's, holding back a sigh. "I know."

"...not least because Smithy's gone and fallen in love with Martha Jones."

"Oh for god's sake..."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

Incredible response last week, ladies and gents - thank you so much for the wonderful feedback! There appear to be a few similar questions floating about at this late stage, and this chapter will probably raise even more, but they should all be answered by the end.

For those of you who thought last week was emotional... yeah, hankies at the ready for this one, I fear. As always, reviews are hugely appreciated. Pip pip!

* * *

The night was a restless one for Ianto Jones. In Jack's arms he laid, reflecting on the evening's hysteria and fighting against the knowledge that the sickening weight settling in his stomach was regret.

Once the seed of that idea had sprung to the forefront of his mind, it couldn't be removed no matter how he attempted to distract himself. It was a regret for what he'd said to Jack, for the way he'd thrown himself at his feet, for the promise he'd made which now, he wasn't certain he _could_ keep. Three words repeated in his mind – _what __about __me?_ Yes, Ianto had pledged that he would do anything to keep Jack happy... to stay with him until he was no longer needed... but he found, to his own surprise and disgust, that he wasn't as willing to pay the price as he wanted to be.

It was only once he realised _why_ that he turned his face into the pillow and finally allowed silent tears to escape, determined not to wake Jack and let him see his weakness when he _had_ to be strong. Suddenly he was aware, blindingly so, of what was missing between them – what had _always_ been missing. And while he had no right to ask for it, it was clawing at his insides like a swarm of rats, confirming the fact that this was never going to be alright.

Resentment bubbled up inside him and the hand draped over his hip seemed to burn his skin. Slowly he rolled onto his front, away from Jack, and those fingers hit the mattress with a light thump as they fell away. A fresh weariness permeated Ianto's mind and he was finally able sleep, though even his dreams were filled with shadows and uncertainty.

* * *

"Jones..."

"Sir?"

"Have you seen Smithy today?"

"No, sir."

"Damn" Jack cursed under his breath, finishing off his second coffee of the morning. "What could that fathead be up to?"

"I couldn't tell you, sir."

Ianto stood dutifully behind Jack's chair in the breakfast room, his expression cool and stoic as the morning wore on. He had chosen to retreat to his old personal haven of white noise, something he hadn't done in many months. He feared a potential lack of restraint otherwise – something even Jack's dazzling smile couldn't soothe.

"Have you given any thought to this business of him and Miss Martha Jones, Jones? Any tricks up your sleeve?"

The levity of his tone had the effect on Ianto of a cat having its fur stroked firmly against the grain.

"Not this time sir, no. I don't have the answer."

Jack turned to face him, a frown creasing his brow.

"Nothing at all, Jones?"

"No, sir."

Jack peered up at him, disturbed by his valet's lifeless tone. The previous evening, he had seen a passion in Ianto that he'd never known before, and spent the night basking in the glow of being fought for. He had allowed the emotion to sweep him away, focussing solely on not being alone, whatever happened. But today... Ianto looked tired, and not just physically. Jack swallowed hard against a sudden dryness in his throat and murmured, "Ianto? Are you-"

"I'm fine, sir" Ianto interrupted, avoiding Jack's gaze. "If you will excuse me..."

He left without excuse, abandoning his post and leaving the room as silently as a wraith. Jack followed with his eyes but made no moves to chase him, or ask what was wrong. The mere thought of what the answer might be terrified him. Ianto was his rock – he couldn't crumble, not now.

"Jack! Jackie!"

Jack looked up from idly examining his hands to see Adam Smith bustling towards him, his face glowing in a way that suggested he was still enamoured with Martha, and as such Jack had no particular desire to hear what he had to say.

"What is it, Smithy?" he sighed, leaning back in the same garden seat he had occupied the previous day. Except that this time, he was alone.

"Jackie, you know you said you wanted to help me protect my marriage?" Adam murmured, leaning down towards Jack in favour of sitting next to him. Jack narrowed his eyes, wondering where on earth this could be going.

"Yeah?"

"Well, you still can – be a sport and write to Rose for me, breaking the engagement?"

Jack clenched his eyes shut and let out a primal growl of frustration, stamping both feet on the grass.

"Damn it Smithy, NO!" he yelled, past caring who might hear. "You're supposed to be marrying that woman, not dumping her via telegram for someone you only met yesterday!"

Adam placed his hands on his hips, unmoveable.

"Jackie, I _love_ Martha! I've seen the light!"

"I don't _care_! You're already engaged to another woman!"

"That's never stopped _you_" Adam snorted, only looking repentant when Jack's glare threatened to set him alight.

"This is different, Smithy. No matter how either of us spin this, the fact is we've both come into this house lying about who we are. So even if you give Rose the bum's rush, Martha's going to find out you're _not_ Jack Harkness and that you came here looking for permission to marry somebody else. You'll break two girls' hearts, and still be alone at the end of it."

Adam pursed his lips, looking down at the ground.

"You're right" he said quietly, lifting his head with a manic resolution on his face. "What I need to do is marry Martha as quickly as possible, whisk her away, and make sure she never finds out!"

"Smithy, that's _not_ going to work!" Jack ground out through gritted teeth, but Adam was already jogging back to the house. Again Jack couldn't find the strength to chase after him, instead running a hand roughly through his hair and hating the feeling of being completely at a loss. Whenever he felt this tension, he always had Ianto to resolve it for him. He always had Ianto to guide him in a storm. But Jack hadn't seen him since he left at breakfast, after an almost silent morning... and he thought that maybe, just maybe, his abandonment was complete.

It wasn't until the entire household was brusquely called to the previously unseen dance hall late in the afternoon that Jack saw Ianto again, standing rigidly beside his faux-master. He contemplated approaching the young man, but his expression was cold and blank and Jack knew from bitter experience that it was the mask he wore when struggling with some inner battle. One Jack, apparently, couldn't help with. The fact that Ianto was instead choosing to fight alone hurt, but Jack supposed he'd given his lover no reason to be open with him when he himself could barely decipher his own thoughts at any given moment.

"Quiet, please!" Dame Francine demanded, sweeping grandly in front of the gathered throng. Pulled briefly from his own introspection, Jack glanced around at the group, surprised to see what appeared to be all of the staff in the room as well as the family. But with his mind firmly distracted by his situation and what Ianto was hiding from him, he couldn't imagine why Dame Francine had dragged everybody away from their own activities.

"Now, as you all know" Dame Francine began, "I have been attempting to marry off my daughter Martha for some time. And... well..." she grinned, a malevolent expression if ever there was one. "This afternoon, Mr. Harkness asked my permission for her hand!"

Jack's blood immediately ran cold, his eyes swivelling to an expressionless Ianto, a gleeful Adam, and a wary Martha.

"And – following a few provisos given Mr. Harkness' past activities" Dame Francine added, flashing Adam a chastising look, "I have agreed that they may wed!"

Five pairs of hands – each belonging to one of the Jones sisters – began clapping frantically before the rest of the room joined in somewhat more tentatively. The noise went unheard by Jack, watching open-mouthed as Dame Francine pulled Adam and Martha forcibly to the front of the crowd and pushed them tightly together. Adam grabbed his fiancée's hand and held it victoriously above them, grinning widely enough to split his face.

"To Jack and Martha!" somebody called, before Dame Francine's eye was caught by something at the back of the room.

"Oh, Mr. Harkness! Your aunt has arrived – what marvellous timing!"

Jack almost choked on a gasp, seeing the colour drain from Adam's face before he spun around to see Alice Harkness in the hall doorway, flanked by the butler and turning magenta with confusion and humiliation.

"What on _earth_ is going on here?" her voice boomed, halting every last clap and turning every single face towards her.

"Oh no" Jack murmured, longing for the presence of a bottomless pit as his aunt's flaming gaze finally landed on him.

* * *

"What were you _thinking_?" Alice roared, bearing down on Jack like a bird of prey. After her dramatic arrival at the Manor, she had gone on to inform Jack and Ianto that they would accompany her for a private conversation, advising Adam that he may also have a few things to say to Dame Francine. Though she kept her voice calm, Jack could see the tell-tale signs of her trembling with outrage. With Ianto trailing behind them both, Jack had led his aunt up to his suite, feeling as if he were approaching the gallows.

"I come all this way in response to a call from Dame Francine telling me that my nephew has fallen in love with her daughter, and I find _this_grotesque Shakespearean spectacle? Are you telling me that you are stupid enough to attempt impersonating another person, in order to gain Dame Francine's favour on their behalf?" she asked, her voice rising as she paced. Jack had chosen a straight-backed, hard chair instead of the sofa, not allowing himself to look as if he was shrinking away. He felt Ianto's presence behind him, but the knowledge was not as soothing as usual.

"It was to help a friend" he said, forcing his voice to remain even. "Smithy got into a spot of bother in Cardiff... he was needed here, to get permission to marry his fiancée, so I came down pretending to be him. I didn't know he was going to turn up too, and I _certainly_ didn't know he'd go and fall in love with that Martha girl!"

"_You_ were supposed to be the one wooing Martha!" Alice replied.

"Yeah, well, unlike Adam Smith I can't just switch it on and off like a tap!" Jack retorted, folding his arms.

"Listen to me, Jack Harkness" Alice growled, pointing a stout finger in front of his face. "This will be a powerful alliance for us. You've lived your bachelorhood, and you have clung to it for _far __too __long_! Getting yourself embroiled with trollops, spending your nights at that revolting club..." she openly sneered at her nephew, her cheeks losing none of their angered colour.

"Therefore, I shall arrange with Francine to have this Smith character sent back to his own fiancée with his tail between his legs, and you _will_ marry Martha Jones as soon as is possible. She is engaged to Jack Harkness, so she will marry Jack Harkness. That is my final word."

Jack stood up so quickly that the chair tumbled over behind him, the clatter deepening Alice's glare.

"No" he said, balling his hands into fists.

"I beg your pardon?" his aunt hissed, as ever seeming the more formidable of the two despite her diminutive height.

"I don't want to marry Martha, Aunt Alice. I don't even _know_ her! Why should I? Why do I have to?"

"Because it's _the __done __thing_!" Alice screeched back, and silence fell. Jack's shoulders fell with the inevitable defeat of an argument he was never going to win, and his aunt smirked in the face of his weakness.

"Your status, Jack? Your wealth, your social standing – you _knew_ the price of it from the day you were born! Of course, like any guardian, I had hoped you could marry for love... but as you seem incapable of the emotion, I am within my rights to choose a bride for you. I am _sick_ of this constant carousel of loose city girls you choose and then reject. You are almost thirty, Jackie, and still single – do you know how unfashionable that is?"

The statement was so absurd that Jack laughed, the sound tinged with panic and resignation. Alice allowed him to finish, her expression sour, and when Jack opened his mouth again, he threw all remaining caution to the wind.

"I am perfectly capable of love, dearest aunt" he said, smiling grimly at her. "And, as it happens, I'm not single. It's just that there's the small issue of the fact that my lover..." he leaned in close to his frowning aunt, lowering his voice to a whisper "...isn't a woman."

Alice was silent for only a beat before angrily rolling her eyes.

"Yes Jackie, I know of your preferences" she replied matter-of-factly. "That little Oriental woman, Lady Sake or whatever her name is, told me of your disgraceful exploits in New York."

Jack's shock was such that he stumbled back a step, mouth agape.

"Of course I won't expose you... the humiliation would be unbearable. But since then, I have done everything in my power to research the elements of your life that you have kept hidden from me, Jack" Alice continued coolly, resuming her pacing. "Specifically, everything that has occurred since you met Ianto Jones."

Jack turned to his lover, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Ianto wouldn't meet his eyes, instead looking straight at Jack's aunt with an impenetrable expression.

"I know that he has systematically removed you from your so-called friends, which I cannot claim is a negative thing" Alice said. "I also know that he has been the one to alienate every potential female alliance since the day you met, in increasingly lavish and ridiculous ways, allowing you to wallow in your own filth without a stabilising female influence. Now, he has pretended to be valet for somebody else in order to keep up this ridiculous farce of yours. For all I know, he is also providing you with rent boys so that you may pursue your perverted, disgusting, _illegal_ tastes" Alice scowled, and Jack felt his knees threaten to buckle.

"A marriage to a good woman will cure you of this sickness, Jack. Marriage, and the removal of your worst influences."

"What?" Jack murmured, feeling as if he was watching the entire scene unfold through dirty glass.

"I spoke to The Harwood Society immediately after receiving Dame Francine's call yesterday. Mr. Jones is being removed from your services with immediate effect."

"No" Jack said, shaking his his vehemently as bile rose in his throat. "No, I take it all back, everything, but _not_ him!"

"It is already official, Jack" Alice breezily replied. "You have no say over Mr. Jones' placement. The final decision is down to the society and the agency. My late husband had a significant amount of sway with The Harwood Society, so it wasn't difficult. Mr. Jones will be reassigned to a new master; one who will keep him in his place. You should _never_ treat the help with affection, Jack." Alice shook her head, frowning when Jack stumbled to the sofa and collapsed down upon it. With a tut, she refocussed her gaze onto Ianto.

"Mr. Jones, Dame Francine had already begun to arrange an engagement party for the day after tomorrow as soon as she saw the Smith fellow becoming close to her daughter. She has been prepared for the occasion of young Martha's nuptials for some years now, you see. Your help will be required for the celebration; therefore you will remain in this house until your services are no longer needed, after which you will be transported back to Cardiff where you will remove your belongings from my nephew's apartment. By then, the agency should have a new assignment for you. While you are here, you will stay away from my nephew – you are not to speak to or even look at him. He is far too reliant on you, and you have continuously taken advantage of his weaknesses. I am choosing not to report your misconduct to The Harwood Society, on the understanding that you never again go near my nephew. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, ma'am" Jack heard Ianto reply, and he slumped further into the sofa. _'I __will __do __everything __in __my __power __to __remain __with __you_' Ianto had said, less than twenty-four hours ago. Jack risked a look at him, the tears in his eyes obscuring his view and making him miss the way Ianto's clenched fists shook at his sides, the convulsive movement of his Adam's apple, and the sickly yellowish tint which had replaced the natural pale pink of his cheeks. To Jack's fevered mind, Ianto was simply rolling over and taking it.

"Right. Come along, Mr. Jones. Jack, stop sulking – you're going to marry a beautiful woman and live the life your parents wished for you. I only want what is best; you must know that" Alice stated, with not an ounce of affection in her voice. She abruptly clicked her fingers and motioned for Ianto to follow, as if calling a dog to heel.

Jack jumped to his feet just as Ianto reached the door, moving so quickly that Ianto flinched.

"Do something" Jack hissed, grabbing one of Ianto's hands so hard that the fine bones creaked. "_Please _Ianto, I can't..."

For one tiny moment that Jack would commit to memory forever, Ianto's mask slipped aside and his expression crumpled.

"Neither can I" he murmured, his eyes burning not with injustice, but disappointment.

He pulled his hand from Jack's painful grip and slipped away without another glance, feeling Jack's bloodshot eyes burning through his back with every step away from him.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-Five**

Wow. I am utterly blown away by last week's feedback. You lot seriously spoil me - it feels like only last week I was celebrating 500 reviews, and now I've zoomed past 600! I am in complete awe of the reader dedication to this story. All I can say is THANK YOU! Special appreciation goes to **Yasu Min**, who not only left several reviews for J&H but went and did the same for my other three Torchwood stories as well.

Anyway, this is the penultimate chapter, and it's a long 'un. It spun out of my hands even more than usual, but I like where it ended up and I hope you all will too. It's probably a tad M-rated, but I'm sure you can handle it.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Jack?" Ianto whispered into the darkness, his mind too dulled by sleep to contemplate who else might sneak into his bedroom in the middle of the night. The creaking door was closed again with a careful click, and the only evidence of an intruder in his bedroom was the soft shuffle of shoes against carpet. Then, a tentative pressure at the foot of his bed, and the approaching, unmistakable scent of Jack Harkness.

"Ianto" the visitor murmured, his voice a contented murmur as he leaned down to Ianto in the dark and kissed his lips with surprising accuracy. Ianto couldn't see even an outline of his lover, but he could feel him, and _smell_ him. Heat radiated from his body and Ianto longed to drag him down under the covers... but logic won out, aided by the memories of their very recent separation, and he blindly fumbled for Jack's shoulders to hold him at a distance.

"You shouldn't be here" he breathed, trembling against his will as Jack accepted his gesture and instead settled back onto his knees, straddling Ianto's hips in a position they were both achingly familiar with.

"Why not? Why shouldn't I climb into bed with the man I love?" Jack asked, his tone playful and faux-petulant.

"Because all contact between us has been forbidden" Ianto replied with a slight huff of annoyance, choosing a statement of the obvious above sarcasm for once.

"Nothing can keep me from you, Ianto Jones" Jack said, hesitantly laying both hands on Ianto's chest. After a moment of contemplation Ianto decided against pushing him away, and as if reading his mind, Jack began to run his fingers lightly across the cotton-encased torso.

"Ianto, I couldn't sleep for thinking about you – about us – and I just couldn't stop myself from storming into Aunt Alice's rooms and telling her 'to hell with the family honour', damn it! I can't do it, Ianto. I can't live without you. I told her that I'm leaving... but I won't leave alone."

Ianto inwardly fought to slow his heartbeat, sure that Jack would be able to feel it racing.

"Jack..."

"Just say you'll come with me, please?" Jack's voice was soft and earnest and gave Ianto the bizarre sensation of floating in limbo. The weight above him spread to wrap around his entire body and he tried to say "yes" but it fell silent even to his own ears. Jack was there, he could feel him, but he wanted him to know... needed him to know... yes... _yes_...

* * *

"YES!"

Ianto's eyes snapped open to the unwelcome dual onslaught of cold grey light in a cold grey bed, completely and unequivocally alone. He immediately squirmed with embarrassment that he'd shouted himself awake, and then groaned in abject frustration over the nature of the dream. God, it had played out like some nauseating romantic novelette... and not even a believable one. Jack wasn't anywhere near that eloquent for a start, and Ianto was no fainting damsel.

As his mind awakened fully and sharpened around the edges, it was despair and resignation which overcame the rest. Jack had been offered the perfect opportunity to take his stand the previous evening, and he'd let it go to waste. _What __about __me? _Ianto thought yet again, sure now that he would never know the feeling of being fought for. Ianto supposed that Jack had always been a have-my-cake-and-eat-it sort of man, but he had never resented it. Until now.

* * *

He worked mechanically throughout the morning, following the instructions of the head butler who had made it very clear that he was in control of Dame Francine's strict engagement party instructions. Mindlessly moving about the Manor as if he was half-robotic, the white noise returned, filling the furthest vaults of Ianto's mind until he was almost numb.

Almost.

Once or twice, a startling and mostly unfamiliar lack of restraint made him wonder what it would feel like to hurtle the crystal punch bowl across the ballroom and watch it smash to pieces, or to kick the three-tiered stark white cake (which had been on reserve for several months, it seemed) off its stand to smear across the floor. While the urges were not acted upon, it disturbed Ianto that he was entirely certain he'd gain vast pleasure from those – and other similar – aggressive activities.

It reminded him of a time he so rarely dwelt on; his father's death. He had already moved away to London by then, and yes, his reasoning was partly to escape the stifling influence of the older man. He was working for an ageing gambler with embarrassingly lecherous tendencies when news of his father's illness arrived, yet he didn't request leave to visit him in his enfeebled state. _There's __never __an __appropriate __time_, he had told himself, _Mr. __Mayer __is __far __too __reliant __on __me__ – __it __would __be __irresponsible __for __me __to __abandon __him._

Three days later, his father was dead. On the same day, the spanner that Ianto had been using to tighten up the cold tap in the kitchen slipped out of his hand and flew through the window, sending splintered glass flying in all directions. While Mr. Mayer hadn't questioned his explanation, provided a very apologetic Ianto cleared up the mess and had the money for a new window taken from his housekeeping wage, an unwelcome little voice in Ianto's mind was most insistent that to completely destroy a large pane of glass like that required a considerable amount of force. Ianto had never been quite willing to admit even to himself that he'd thrown the tool in a very brief, but hugely intense fit of emotional vandalism. That wasn't the kind of man he was.

There had been so much left unsaid between him and his father, Ianto now realised as he made yet another call to yet another vacuous last-minute party guest. When he was young and naïve, he'd believed that his father's icy coaching of his entire life would soften as he grew older, that an affection would grow and they would find a common ground. Of course, that had never occurred. In fact, his grip on Ianto's very being only tightened as he reached what Jones Snr. would call 'the difficult years', despite the fact that Ianto was an entirely attentive and obedient teen.

Therein came the eventual disappointment that things were never going to change, as much as he attempted to mentally push beyond the chasm of difference between himself and his father. Despite being both a realist and a rationalist, Ianto was all too adept at seeing what he wanted to see, until eventually he could no longer contain his emotions. His love for Jack was so powerful that he had subconsciously overlooked the somewhat unhealthy reliance his former master had upon him, and as such the reality (and the similarities to a past he would normally choose not to think about) was a crashing shock that couldn't be ignored.

As the day wore on, the resounding knowledge that he had to speak to Jack before he exploded with unsaid words of upset and adoration became the sole focus of his mind. He had never told his father how he felt before he died, and now what few pleasant memories he had of him were sullied by guilt and bitterness. If he was never to see Jack again, he couldn't bear the thought of suffering silently under the weight of all he had wanted to express to him. No... he would have to see Jack before the engagement became official. Damn the risks.

* * *

Despite Ianto's surge of energy at the thought of speaking to Jack, which had sliced through the dark gloom of his otherwise sombre mood, it was nearly eleven at night before he plucked up the courage to rap his knuckles lightly against Jack's suite door. He had quietly patrolled the corridor beforehand to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, but truly, his desire to converse with his former lover was too mighty for any worry about safety to manifest itself.

A little of his self-assurance waned when no reply was forthcoming, but when he gripped the elaborately engraved doorknob and twisted, he was pleased to discover that the room was unlocked. He stepped quietly into the dimly-lit space, one that he had unofficially shared up until yesterday, and was pondering whether he should sit down in order to look less confrontational when the object of his thoughts stepped in from the adjoining bathroom.

Jack didn't notice him for a moment, scrubbing his damp hair with a grey towel so harshly that it had to burn. He was completely naked with stray droplets of water trickling down his stomach and thighs, causing Ianto's breath to quicken against his will. When Jack looked up and saw him, instead of jumping back as Ianto might have expected he reacted like a trapped animal; stilling instantaneously, eyes widening almost comically as he did. Then within a matter of seconds his gaze took on a wary veil which Ianto had seen him use with many people – ones Jack didn't feel safe with – but never himself.

It hurt.

The hand holding the towel dropped to cover his groin, and Ianto was surprised by the unfamiliarity of Jack's well-hidden sense of physical self-consciousness. Shoving aside the desire to wrap his arms around Jack and remove that crease from between his brows, Ianto stood his ground, attempting not to sway in the face of his lover's presence, which was still dangerously compelling despite his obvious discomfort.

"You shouldn't be here" Jack murmured in a low, guarded tone, jarring Ianto by using the same words he himself had uttered in his dream.

As soon as his own lips parted, Ianto realised he'd completely lost his grip on the careful construction of words he'd spent the evening planning out. He had a great deal to say, and absolutely no right to say it, but it needed to escape. When confronted with Jack's self-censored body and world-weary expression, however, not even the legendary Jones composure stood a chance.

_He __always __does __this __to __me, _Ianto thought, watching as Jack's stare became impatient. _Even __when __he __isn't __trying... __it's __there. __That __power. __The __one __that __smashed __down __my __barriers __and __awakened __within __me __a __passion __I __didn't __know __existed._ He felt it now, thrumming just below the surface, dispersing the last remnants of Ianto's pre-planned diatribe and leaving him an aching mass of desire, pulled towards one goal.

He wasn't aware of striding across the room to close the distance between them, nor of deftly removing the towel from Jack's hand and flinging it aside, but the kiss which followed... it was like awakening from a terrible dream. Ianto didn't give Jack time to resist, caging his freshly-shaven face in his hands and using his own weight to press the form of the man he loved against the nearest hard surface.

When Jack relented and wrapped his long, strong arms around him, Ianto chose to take the gesture as open permission and the caress became deep and graceless, a lifeline between them which made Ianto long to strip himself clear of his too-tight skin.

Jack was reeling, in awe as ever of Ianto's rarely-seen animalistic side which had flared into life within the briefest of moments, now setting every inch of him on fire. When the young man tore his lips away and stared at him, eyes a deep blazing sapphire before tilting his head to suck and lap at Jack's throat, he should have found the strength to say _no_. Jack had spent the day emotionally exhausted with his soul in tatters, following an entire night alternating between thrashing around his suite in a rage and sobbing in the foetal position. Engagement meeting followed engagement meeting, as his new life was organised around him while he was expected to quietly acquiesce, and the knowledge that Ianto was somewhere else in the same building organising said engagement had nearly broken his silence more than once.

By the end of the day, a sort of grim acceptance had befallen him with the realisation that he had already officially lost Ianto and therefore, it didn't matter what Aunt Alice did to him from then on. But then Ianto Jones just _had_ to sneak into his room, looking haunted and beautiful, and he just _had_ to go and damn well kiss him...

Ianto's tongue caught a quickly-drying rivulet of water from the sensitive hollow where his collar bones met, and all of the fight left Jack's body.

"Bed" he hissed, knowing that if this was the last time, if this was their final goodbye, he wanted comfort and warmth and the softness of a mattress in the afterglow. Ianto tugged him across the room with more impatience than he'd ever shown and Jack willingly allowed himself to be spread across the duvet, watching in wonder through hooded eyes as Ianto shrugged off his clothes with shaking hands and began to wordlessly devour him.

Ianto let himself go in a way which he had only ever allowed himself to do in bed with Jack, and blindly followed his lusts as he licked and kissed a meandering path across Jack's flesh, unable to get enough of the twitch and stretch of the muscles beneath golden skin. He staked his claim over and over, letting it empower him, waiting for Jack to tell him to stop... but the instruction never came, and so he sank his teeth and nails deeper and harder each time until Jack's gasping pleasure became too much for him to bear.

The moment Ianto began to unwittingly whine with the most base of needs, Jack rolled onto his front, showing his complete submission and longing for a lasting reminder of Ianto's passion. The invasion was hurried but any discomfort dispersed quickly, replaced by the unparalleled bliss of Ianto's chest hair creating hot friction against his spine, of rutting against the mattress beneath and sharpening the soreness of his fresh bruises, of impossibly hard flesh rocking so deeply that every slide pushed a low growl through his teeth.

Ianto abandoned himself entirely to the slick heat of his former master, allowing his body command over his blissed-out mind. He sank one hand into the neatly-trimmed, dark chocolate hair of the man beneath him and pulled, gaining just enough of a grip on the short strands to make Jack yelp and follow the pressure. With his head obediently tilted upwards, those same fingers slid around to grip Jack's jaw and forcibly turn it towards Ianto's mouth. Their lips met in a wet and awkward caress which tasted _so_ erotic that Ianto's rhythm began to stutter and his moans morphed into ragged sobbing.

Jack frantically rubbed himself harder against the sheets, the friction burning his skin until a howl was torn from his lungs and every inch of him tensed as tightly as a bow string. His climax was almost unbearable, boiling hot and illicit and loving as it was, and for just a moment as Ianto's own orgasm caused him to curl even more tightly around Jack until he didn't care whether he was able to breathe or not, Jack felt as though everything was _right_. Reality did not exist when they were like this, at their most tightly bound and unguarded. It had always been that way.

Slowly and breathlessly, Ianto relaxed above him, pressing lazy kisses against Jack's nape. He tasted the sweat of Jack's passion and drank it in while he still could. Carefully and on trembling arms, he put a little space between them, moving to roll onto the mattress.

"Don't" Jack complained in a unhappy voice muffled by his duvet, arching up to chase Ianto's departing form. The younger man chuckled but continued towards his goal of collapsing onto the mattress next to Jack. He sank gratefully into the goose feather bed, and smiled through his own blissful haze when he felt Jack's arm slide over his stomach.

Ianto closed his eyes, and kept them closed when something sticky touched his lips. He opened his mouth instinctively and two of Jack's fingers, smothered with his warm seed, inched inside to stroke his tongue. Ianto moaned contentedly and sucked the digits until no trace of the sharp flavour remained, reluctantly releasing them once he was finished and accepting the soft, almost chaste kiss that was pressed to his willing mouth.

"Isn't this worth fighting for, Ianto?" Jack whispered, his voice deep and hypnotic, but when Ianto opened his eyes the expression on his lover's face was as effective a shock as being drenched in ice water. Jack's eyes were pleading, the corners of his mouth childishly down-turned with fear – he still wanted to be saved.

With a sudden, urgent desire to escape, Ianto pushed himself off the mattress and immediately began gathering his clothes, silently scolding himself for allowing them to simply drop to the floor. Fussing over his suit distracted him from his rising ire until Jack gripped his wrist, attempting to tug him back to bed.

"Ianto, _please_, you have to-"

"No, Jack, I don't" Ianto replied, surprising even himself with the sharpness of his own tone. Jack looked stunned and pained but for once, Ianto chose not to apologise.

"I don't understand" Jack stated lamely, baffled by the sudden chill after that gloriously passionate interlude. "Why are you here?"

Ianto stopped dead and stared wide-eyed at him, halfway through slipping his arm into a shirt sleeve. _There's __so __much __that __needs __saying. __God, __Jack, __I __know __how __you __struggle __to __work __these __things __out, __but __surely __you __must __know..._

He sighed heavily and sat back down, careful to keep a little space between himself and Jack's flushed and bruised body. Feeling ridiculous only partially dressed, he shrugged his shirt back off but laid it carefull across the foot of the bed this time, as an indication that he would be leaving Jack's bedroom that night no matter what.

"Jack... yesterday evening when Mrs. Harkness told you that I was being removed from your services – when that final nail was being driven into our relationship – do you remember what you said?" Ianto asked, his voice low and weary.

Jack shuffled a little, crossing his legs beneath the duvet and nodded.

"I said 'not him'" he replied, his own tone melancholy.

"Yes. And just for that split second, I thought you were going to say it. I thought... 'this is the part where Jack tells his aunt he's had enough and that this is one sacrifices he's not willing to make'. But you didn't, Jack."

He risked a look at his former master, finding shock and confusion all over his face.

"I don't understand" the older man repeated, and Ianto barely stopped himself from growling with irritation.

"I don't expect you to" he replied truthfully. "I don't imagine that you would have the slightest clue how it feels to be the lowest priority."

Jack audibly swallowed.

"That's not fair" he murmured, his voice strained.

"I think it is. You want to escape this marriage to Miss Jones, but you refuse to do anything about it."

"H-how can I? Aunt Alice-"

"This has nothing to do with your aunt" Ianto stated, his even tone crisp and loud in the otherwise silent room. "This is about _you_, Jack. From the very beginning of our professional relationship, you treated me with more affection and humanity than any previous master... any _friend_, in fact, and... I can't place when exactly I became this selfish, but it occurred to me two nights ago that equality is still not something I have had the luxury of enjoying. It has _always_ been the sole missing factor between us. We had the illusion of equality, certainly... and that was enough, for the most part. But let's face it, Jack – I really am nothing more than the help, to you."

Jack jerked sharply as if to throw himself at Ianto but he held himself back, for which Ianto was at once relieved and saddened.

"You were never just the help to me, Ianto Jones" Jack replied sincerely, voice thick with his growing upset.

"Jack, I am _always_ your saviour. I have _always_ rescued you when you needed me. That was my purpose, and I was happy... I truly was" Ianto confirmed. "But that evening, when I said that I would remain with you no matter what happened... Jack, I was going to give up what little I have in my life, for you, simply to remain your support system. It brought into sharp relief how one-sided our life together has been in that respect, and last night, you had the chance to sacrifice something for me. You chose not to take it."

Ianto's voice wavered and he paused to take a few breaths, thankful that Jack was showing some rare restraint in allowing him to talk. By the sounds of muted sniffing beside him, Ianto concluded that his lover was crying; regardless of that, he had more to say.

"This spectral idea of marriage being on the horizon at every turn has been slowly putting a strain on us for weeks... months, even" he continued, "and you always accepted it."

"So did you" Jack quickly replied, the pain in his voice almost breaking the younger man.

"I accepted that you weren't going to change it" Ianto corrected him. "It didn't take much to realise that your aunt was never the true threat, but that you were crushed between leading a life which followed the social norms, and protecting the Harkness name by producing an heir. I understand that Jack, I truly do... I know exactly how important image is, particularly to a gentleman of your family's standing. I suppose I thought that, when that pressure finally did close in and you had the choice between that and your relationship with me..."

Ianto chuckled humourlessly, bowing his head yet further until his spine curved in an unfamiliar mockery of his usual perfect posture.

"No, that's not true. I never thought that it would be me. But perhaps I hoped that it wouldn't be as painful as it is."

Jack released a long, shuddering breath, blinking hard but unable to keep up with the stream of quiet tears which dripped down his face and fell forlornly onto the bed. Ianto's wake-up call was a harsh and powerful one, and Jack's sense of self-loathing was sent to previously unseen heights with every true word. The very _concept_ of saving himself... when had he become so pathetically reliant on others to solve his problems? He had lived so much of his life without guidance, yet as an adult he avoided making his own decisions at every turn. He became dependant on people – John Hart, Doc Smith, Ianto... and even his aunt. He had allowed her to mould his social image without even realising, and when it came to the crunch, all of his kicking and screaming was for nothing, because he'd lain back and let it happen... all the while inwardly accusing Ianto of doing the same. But Ianto had been offering him an escape route within his silence – a chance to stand up for himself, the chance he'd always wrongly thought he deserved – and he'd been too caught up in his distress to see it for what it was.

He understood now why when Ianto had left his bedroom, his most prominent expression had been one of disappointment – it was not the situation, but Jack himself who had let him down. Jack wondered whether having Ianto hate him would have been comparatively less agonising.

"Either way, I have a lot to lose" he said, voice hoarse as he roughly swiped tears from his cheeks. Yes, he loved Ianto, and yes, he was quite certain that he'd never be happy again without him... but his parents' name, their posthumous expectations of him, his duty to their legacy... it wasn't something he could simply ignore. Finally Ianto looked at him, his eyes mournful yet somehow sympathetic, reminding Jack that Ianto was so much the better man than he.

"I know, Jack. You have a social obligation, and I inherently have a great deal more freedom than you. I'm not here to ask you to change anything... I simply didn't want the love I feel for you to turn into something less by keeping this to myself."

A ragged sob escaped Jack's throat and he watched, devastated all over again, as Ianto left the bed and returned to his dressing. Ianto felt Jack's unwavering gaze upon him and turned to face the window so that the other man wouldn't see how badly his hands shook, or the trembling of his chin and damp eyelashes as he fought tooth and nail to retain his composure. He had imagined, when planning what he would say, that Jack would make denials and spawn a mutually-blaming, passionate argument. Instead he had not only patiently allowed Ianto to speak, but apparently accepted everything he'd said. Not for the first time, Ianto felt a swell of shame for not giving Jack enough credit, and wondered if a blazing row might have been easier to handle than this deep and relentless heartache.

When fully dressed he stood listlessly in the middle of the room, tucking his hands behind his back in a show of familiar subservience that was at odds with his crumpled suit and tousled hair. The two men stared longingly at one another for a moment before Jack too rose from the bed, standing close to Ianto but not touching him. Ianto's gaze was caught by a bright pink bite just above Jack's left nipple and he touched it lightly without thinking, as if the stroke of his fingers could erase the mark.

"I hurt you" he murmured, remorse over his aggression lacing the words. Jack shook his head, grabbing onto the hand before Ianto could take it away and raising it to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

"I've hurt you worse" he replied, and Ianto's entire body sagged until they fell easily into a tight embrace.

"I didn't say any of that to upset you, Jack."

"I know. You're still just doing what's best for me, Ianto Jones. I don't deserve it... I never have."

Ianto pulled away slightly and leaned his forehead against Jack's, sharing his breath and finally letting loose a few of his own tears.

"You absolutely deserve it" he argued. "You deserve to be fought for. But... for the first time in my life, I feel as if_ I_ do, too. I told you not long ago that there would come a time where I couldn't fix your problems, and I am sorry Jack, but this is it. I can't stop this, and I can't change it."

"But you think I can?" Jack replied, the tone and his grip on Ianto's shoulder blades hopeful with a tinge of desperation. "Ianto?"

_Yes_, the younger man thought, _but __I __don't __think __that __you __will_.

He said nothing, opting instead for a long, adoring kiss which felt so finite that he whimpered aloud, losing a little more of his emotional grip. Jack was the one to break the connection this time, running his thumbs across Ianto's sharp cheekbones as he had done so many times before.

"I know it's not enough any more, and maybe it hasn't been for a while... but I love you, Ianto Jones. You should always have been my priority, and I am _so __sorry... _you have to know that... _nobody_ else has ever made me feel this kind of admiration and respect for them" he said, emphasizing the final words to ensure that Ianto knew it was true. The fact that he had made Ianto feel like less than he was was beyond unforgivable. "At least, not since Rudolph Valentino."

Ianto laughed softly, the sound genuine and cathartic, and when he leaned back he was smiling.

"I understand. Mr. Valentino is a difficult act to follow."

"He wasn't so great. He never replied to my letters, and some of them were pretty graphic. I was sure I'd manage to get a rise out of hi-"

"Jack" Ianto interrupted, running his hands down the other man's arms before breaking their contact completely. He mourned the loss immediately, and Jack looked almost adrift at sea as he stood still, naked and wounded, before him.

"I love you too."

Jack smiled in response – that personal, secret smile which his former lover supposed might never be seen again if this truly was the end – and Ianto had to fight every protective desire in his body in order to turn around and walk to the door. Now the words had been released, instead of feeling lighter for it Ianto felt himself swallowed up by the grief of losing his lover – the sunlight of his life – for the sake of normalcy. He didn't expect to ever stop loving Jack. He didn't think that he wanted to.

"Goodbye, sir" he said quietly as he stepped back over the threshold, taking in the last vision he expected to have of Jack as his and pausing, only for a moment, when Jack replied "goodnight, Jones".

_Goodnight_.

Not _goodbye_.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-Six**

This, my friends, is the final chapter of Jones and Harkness. Author's notes (read: gushing thanks) at the bottom. Enjoy!

* * *

_He loves me... he loves me not... he loves me... he loves me not... he loves me._

Jack plucked the final red petal from the stem with his middle and forefinger, raising it close to his face to analyse its perfect satin curve. Soon it would wither and die but for now, it was flawless, young and bright, and nothing could touch it.

He sighed and surreptitiously brushed the massacred bloom into his pocket, not wanting to be caught destroying the floral arrangements. _And wasn't that just like him__? _he thought bitterly – allowing something beautiful to become spoiled but not wanting to take the blame. He had spent the night re-examining every word Ianto had said to him and remembering all of the times he had taken his young lover for granted. When eventually he lost count, that was the final straw.

Now, slightly more alert and with only the hangover of a sobbing-induced migraine, he had to wonder what exactly he was giving up a life of love and understanding for. While he enjoyed the monetary wealth that his name afforded him, the social aspect wasn't of interest and hadn't been for a long time. After all, he'd spent much of his adult life purposefully disgracing himself, and in his time with Ianto slowly encouraging a distance between himself and his old friends, specifically those who frequented The Torchwood Club.

But as much as he had floated through life as a younger man, _this_ had always been a certainty. He could be a self-destructive as he wanted up until the point of becoming a husband/father/respectable member of society, and that had always seemed so far away. He'd never possessed the courage or wherewithal to question it, and now, here it was. It had seemed like the selfless option, that inherent duty as the sole Harkness male to be all that a _normal_ man should be – except that he hadn't reckoned on falling so deeply in love that he could hardly stand the feeling.

Now, his future stared him in the face like a great yawning chasm, and all he wanted to do was reach back for his sole support...

_No. Ianto Jones isn't mine to fall back on any more. _

Jack stared unseeingly at the tabletop before him, oblivious to the movement and barking of orders all around, and sank even more deeply into his mourning. He envisaged Ianto's face – those bright sardonic eyes, the teasing half-smile, a light flush over his cheekbones as a result, perhaps, of a stealthy kissing session instigated by Jack – and all oxygen was stolen from him at a startling speed. Every inch of Jack ached for the man, and he knew once and for all that he simply _couldn't_ survive without him. Not to fight his battles, not to bail him out of trouble, not to make him coffee and clean up his messes – no, he needed Ianto Jones like he needed air. Just to be there. Just to see him smile, to make him laugh, to revel in him at his most unguarded and know that he'd made a fellow lonely little boy just a bit happier. Ianto loved him for the right reasons; it wasn't part of the job description, Jack knew that. And he loved Ianto in a way he hadn't thought he was even capable of, but while waiting for the other shoe to drop, he'd neglected to show it as well as he should have. He knew that now, and he was paying for it. _God, __Ianto... __what __can __I __do? __It's __only __you; __it's __always __been __you..._

Martha dropped inelegantly beside him, making him start in his seat and refocus on a face with a softer jawline and much wider, darker eyes than he'd been imagining.

"Mother is driving me mad" she sighed, using an expensively-printed place card to fan herself. "I'll be glad when this is all over."

Jack blinked at her and then stared out across the hall, watching as flustered staff placed down vast vases, arranged the final decorations, and stifled every ounce of personal creativity in order to follow Dame Francine's instructions to the letter. Everything looked deeply lavish, but it was all for show, covering up what was essentially the crumbling remains of a Manor that the family could no longer truly afford – the perfect metaphor for a hastily shoved-together partnership between two virtual strangers which could not possibly go well. Despite the rich colour scheme the sight was cold and lifeless, and Jack felt his innards contract until he was almost suffocating.

"This isn't me" he muttered, shaking his head in wonder at the false spectacle that was to become the final nail Ianto spoke of. The last one in the coffin of his freedom.

"What?" Martha replied sharply, sounding so much like her mother that Jack inwardly shuddered.

"This... it isn't me. It's god-awful, in fact" Jack said, letting slip a little hysterical laugh. He jumped when Martha's slender hand clamped tightly around his wrist and squeezed hard.

"You listen to me, Jack Harkness" she hissed, "do you think _I_ want this either? I just need to get away from my mother. I was prepared to marry that Smith moron to do it, and I'm prepared to marry _you_. I need your name, your fortune, and your cooperation in spawning a few sprogs, and _you_ need to fulfil your obligation as a man. I've completely abandoned my standards by this point, and you can't afford to be picky any more either, so just paste on a smile and let's get through this hideous farce."

Jack's mouth fell open as he stared at his future wife. She was beautiful, well-bred, a very wise social choice... and Jack knew he never wanted to see her again after today.

A concept struck him as lightening through smog; a crude idea, a dangerous one in fact, but as it formed in his mind, it sent tendrils of frantic hope coursing through each and every vein. _C__ould __it __work? _If not, he might lose not only Ianto but everything else, the two worlds colliding and collapsing around him... but if so, he could be the one to save the day once and for all.

The tinkling of piano keys emanating from the shallow stage at the other end of the hall attracted his attention, and as the introductory notes of a song Jack knew all too well were idly practised, he lost his breath all over again. _Their _song – rushing memories of being wedged onto a small leather stool, watching those artists' fingers move, sharing a dark look of longing during Gwen and Rhys' wedding reception, dancing alone in their suite afterwards – this was it. And while Jack was not a man of superstition, this was a coincidence that could not be ignored. It was time to stand up for what he believed in.

"I have to make a couple of phone calls" he murmured in a haze of his own whirling emotions, backing away from the hall which would hold the laughably-entitled engagement 'celebration' and running through the Manor with only one goal in mind.

For once in his life, Jack Harkness knew exactly what he had to do.

* * *

Ianto Jones had long since given up keeping a hold on the day. Guilt had slowly consumed his morning, and the afternoon saw it entwine with sorrow, until he – Jones Jnr., voted finest professional valet under the age of thirty _twice_ by his peers – was struggling to function. Speaking to Jack the previous evening hadn't cleared his head as he'd hoped. Instead, disgust for letting himself loose around Jack to the extent where he felt it was appropriate to lay his personal issues out in the open reigned, and he was horrified that he'd allowed it to occur.

He had _promised_ himself that he could maintain professionalism alongside his romantic relationship with Jack, and yet he'd had the almighty gall to criticize his master, upset him, use him...

_You weren't criticizing your master. You were speaking to him as your lover._

He took a deep breath as the thought rang through his mind, taking a break from buffing the same crystal Champagne flute he had been shining for the previous ten minutes. Perhaps _he_ was the one who had issues with the two sides of his persona, not Jack? Jack was dependent, yes... but hadn't he admitted to being that way with others? He relied on Ianto's ingenuity and intelligence to get him out of scrapes, but perhaps Ianto had been too quick to assume it was solely because of his job. _Damn __it, __I __have __to __be __less __sensitive __about __that_...

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, attempting to soothe the ache which lay behind. Yes, he had needed to say all that he did, but maybe it should also have been the time to tell Jack that he'd brightened his life more than he could have imagined, that he'd opened his eyes to unknown pleasures, and that he'd never met a more compelling human being in his young but world-wise life. Jack was the most beautiful person he had ever known, and Ianto's too-short time with him had been more joyous than he could ever have expected or wished for. He should have said his goodbyes properly. The disappointment remained, of course – his remorse over the blaming tone of his choice of words didn't alter the fact that Jack should have finally taken his cue to stand up for himself and, by association, their love – but god, if only he'd said... Jack knew, didn't he? Or would the man marry his new wife thinking that there was nobody left in the world who loved him?

The mutter of theatrically hushed voices roused him from his reflection. On recognising one of them as that of Jack's aunt, he focussed the slightly rusted eavesdropping skills his father had taught him and leaned forward in his seat, giving the impression of busyness despite knowing that those to whom the voices belonged could not see him. They must have been just outside of the kitchen door by the sound of it, apparently not having realised at any point in their lives that servants lived to absorb every tiny morsel of knowledge about their employers. Thankfully Ianto was alone in his polishing, and therefore able to hear every muffled word.

"-sless idiot, Francine. He's worse than the Adam child, although at least _he's_ gone ahead with his side of our agreement and returned to young Rose with his tail between his legs. Provided he does his duty, she won't ever have to know about his little indiscretion. But Jack, good lord, the boy can't do a _thing_ by himself!"

A long breath was released and Ianto imagined that Dame Francine was exhaling the smoke of her hundredth frenzied cigarette of the day.

"It doesn't matter, Alice. As long as he has his own place, money, and is getting Martha out of his damned wreck of a house, I just don't care!"

"Mmmm. Well, obviously he'll have to get rid of that _disgusting_ flat of his and buy a real home. Nearer to me I think, with a garden for the children, obviously. And I think it's time he finds a job; I've already been enquiring into a career for him, in fact. I know a retired banker, an old friend of my husband's, who could be vastly useful. I can see Jack in a bank, doing a sensible, adult job. Not that he needs the money of course, since he lives off his trust fund, but I think perhaps that the ready cash should be put aside for the spawn."

"Indeed so. That boy needs to understand the harsh realities of life, Alice."

"Absolutely, it's the straight and narrow for him from now on. I won't be taking no for an answer – not any more."

Ianto didn't know when his lips had parted in shock. How naïve had he been, telling himself over and over that marriage would make Jack's life easier in the long run? He was going to be more of a prisoner than ever, chained to a woman he barely knew to have his future moulded by a cold, relentless guardian.

Ianto ached for Jack, realising just how comparatively simplistic his own life was. Ianto was only truly losing Jack, but Jack was losing _everything _he had. He wasn't incapable of making sacrifices at all – he was making all of them at once, if not exactly the right ones for the right reasons.

For once in his life, Ianto Jones had absolutely no idea what to do.

* * *

Glancing around at the guests who were slowly pouring in, Jack wondered if he'd ever felt such disrespect for a group of people in his life. Having almost no family himself, all of the gathered masses were related to Martha in some way, and they all seemed to be cast in the same shape – shallow, mercenary, sharp and cold. For some reason, Aunt Alice had also seen fit to invite Owen Harper and Toshiko Sato – apparently the only 'friends' of Jack's she could tolerate – both of whom avoided Jack's stare as they scuttled in.

By the time the 'party' (Jack used the term loosely) was in full swing, he was completely delirious with nerves. Circling the hall under the guise of mingling, he subtly searched for Ianto, wondering for a sickening moment whether he was being kept away entirely in case he dared to speak to Jack.

"Come and dance" Martha ordered from behind him, and his dislike for her suddenly trebled. He spun around and looked into her irritated face, mourning the fact that such beauty had been offered to such an unpleasant person.

"Why?" he asked, allowing himself a little belligerence.

"Because everybody here wants to see the _happy __couple_ enjoying each other's company" she replied through gritted teeth as if speaking to a particularly intolerable child, and grabbed his sleeve to drag him onto the dance floor. Pasting on his falsest of smiles, he unwillingly took her in his arms and they began to sway to the funereal tune Dame Francine had chosen.

"Why did you have to wear that bloody awful jacket?" Martha sighed, the bitter tone in freakish contrast to the bright smile she was displaying to the world.

Jack glanced down at his navy blue blazer with its contrasting red piping and bright silver buttons, and shrugged.

"I like this jacket" he said.

"I'm going to burn your entire wardrobe when we're married" Martha hissed back.

"You do and I'll throw you on top of the fire" Jack growled, gaining great joy from the sudden furious stiffness which flooded his fiancée's body.

Whatever Martha said next was lost to Jack as his eye was caught by the only Jones in his life who mattered. Ianto was slowly circling the room with a tray of full glasses, looking to anybody else like the perfect butler but to Jack, his stance screamed discomfort and tension. He appeared so lonesome, so tired, and Jack felt a surge of power he hadn't ever known before. It was something he didn't know he possessed, but now it bubbled beneath the skin and only sharpened his new-found sense of clarity. Ianto surely had to know that he was staring, but he was keeping up a steely façade that Jack longed to penetrate.

Gathering up every molecule of self-control, Jack chose to wait. If he was to go through with his plan, timing was essential, and thus he proceeded to spend much of the evening dancing alternately with Martha and her female relatives, all of whom treated him with frosty contempt. After just half an hour, the fact that almost everybody in the room disliked him stopped stinging. Being liked really didn't seem that important now, when there was only one opinion he cared about.

One he'd battered, but hoped wasn't completely beyond repair.

* * *

As the night wore on, Ianto's steadfast promise not to so much as look at the dance floor was becoming increasingly difficult to uphold. He caught glances of Jack only twice – the flash of that red piping or a mop of rebelliously-styled hair – and both times he had come perilously close to tripping over some party guest or other. He grew increasingly frustrated with his lack of professionalism, cursing himself once again for allowing his sense of restraint to slip so far, and cursing Jack for breaking him down to a level of humanity he hadn't had any desire to reclaim. Now, he was as open and vulnerable as anybody else and would have to rebuild his own shell almost from scratch.

The third time he saw Jack, the night was finally beginning to wind down. He watched as his former master hopped swiftly onto the musicians' stage, his energy apparently not having diminished despite the hours of dancing, and jump back down after speaking to the conductor briefly. He was smiling, Ianto noticed – actually smiling, _naturally _smiling, looking light and self-satisfied as he took Martha back into his arms. Ianto felt nausea rise swiftly and he forced it back down with a succession of heavy swallows. Who was he to protest if Jack had chosen to embrace his new life? Perhaps he had realised that he _wanted_ the structure Martha Jones and his Aunt Alice could provide.

The image before him swiftly blurred and Ianto was horrified to discover that his eyes were rapidly filling with tears. Turning towards the nearest wall, he casually swiped at them to remove the excess moisture and stole a few deep breaths. _If __Jack __is __happy, so must I be__._

Just then, the sound of piano keys being caressed in an achingly familiar pattern began to pour delicately from the stage, and Ianto would never admit that his pulse momentarily stopped. _Why __this __song? _he inwardly groaned, those banished tears rushing back. A song that he had once been more or less indifferent to which now held too many memories for him to handle. _I __have __to __leave. __I __can't __be __here_.

Rubbing once more at his face he picked up his empty tray and turned away from the wall, eyes darting towards the exit and his feet following. When his path was blocked by a tall, broad body, he found himself staring into the visage of the last person he expected to stand in his way.

"Ianto Jones" Jack drawled quietly, hands in his pockets and a somewhat shy smile lighting up his eyes.

"Mr. Harkness... can I offer you another drink?" Ianto replied, fighting tooth and nail to keep his voice even. Jack shook his head, refusing to break eye contact.

"No Ianto, not right now. Actually, I wondered if you might do me a little favour" Jack nonchalantly stated, rocking a little on his heels.

"Of course, sir" came the stoic reply, the tray placed aside in a show of flawless servitude. "What is it you wish for?"

"Well you see, the thing is, I'm about to do something really quite foolish and I was wondering if you'd stand by my side as I do it. Y'know, solidarity between friends and all that. All you have to do is say yes or no" Jack explained.

"That sounds familiar" Ianto murmured without thinking, and he was startled when Jack laughed.

"Yep, there's been a lot of that since we've known each other..."

"May I ask what this foolish endeavour entails, sir?"

Jack's smile faded and he removed his hands from his pockets, holding them in front of himself with the palms faced downwards. Ianto was startled to see those fingers he knew so well shaking violently in a manner he'd only witnessed in the heat of passion.

"No more safe options, Ianto Jones" Jack said softly, his voice barely audible over _their_ song, and he extended one quivering limb to his former lover. "Dance with me."

Ianto's breath rushed swiftly from his lungs, and he stared hard at the sincere expression on Jack's tense face. _He's making __his __stand. This is__his __sacrifice. __In __front __of __all __of __these __people, __he __wants __to __show __once __and __for __all __where __his __heart __lies._

"What about-" he heard himself say, but Jack shushed him with a shake of his head.

"Just yes or no, Ianto."

"Yes."

All of that tension left Jack's face and his eyes widened, as if he'd expected another answer. Ianto supposed that he'd given Jack every reason to think so, but it simply wasn't an option. Not this time.

A smile spread over the older man's face, broad and adoring, and without another word he pulled Ianto through the remaining smattering of guests and onto the dance floor. He wrapped one arm around Ianto's waist, prompting the other man to reciprocate, and took Ianto's spare hand to hold it tightly against his chest. They stood as a mirror image, equal and protective, and began to move.

Around them, nervous laughter and murmuring began, and from the corner of his eye Jack could see his aunt, Dame Francine and Martha Jones quietly fuming but choosing not to step in for as long as everybody else thought that it was a joke. He didn't care. He had Ianto in his arms and he was finally showing the world, in his own way, that _this_ was his priority. To hell with convention. The future was just that, and he would be ready for it when it came, because nobody else was allowed to dictate his life when he had found something too precious to lose.

Unable to stop himself, he began to sing softly along to the tune permeating the room, rubbing his thumb across Ianto's knuckles as he did...

"_The __very __thought __of __you, __and __I __forget __to __do,_

_those little ordinary things that everyone ought to do,_

_I'm living in a kind of daydream, I'm happy as a king,_

_and foolish as it may seem, to me, that's everything..."_

Ianto smiled at last, his expression finally changing from shock to pleasure as the personal meaning behind the lyrics sunk in.

"It doesn't need saying" he murmured.

"I think it does" Jack replied. "These past two mornings I've woken up knowing that my world was empty because you were gone. I can't live that way. You were wrong, Ianto, I _do_ know how it feels to be the lowest priority, but you saved me from that. I hate that I've made you feel the same loneliness."

Ianto finally broke the connection, lowering his head in shame.

"Jack, I was upset. I had no right to-"

"I needed to hear it, Ianto. But this is me showing that if you can forgive me, I want to spend my life making sure that you know just how important you are."

Ianto raised his eyes once more, bursting with questions, but Jack's expression silenced him again. Jack was taking an enormous risk tonight – in public view at that – and Ianto didn't expect anything from now onwards to be especially easy. However, there really was no question regarding his love for and loyalty to Jack. It was a moot point.

The song wound down, and he opened his mouth to respond when Jack was aggressively wrenched away from him.

"Jack Harkness, cease this revolting display!" Alice whispered in an anguished hiss, her face a picture of wrath "People are staring! The joke has gone too far. You will dance with your fiancée now and put to bed this vile spectacle at once! What will people think?"

Jack glared down at her with disdain as she yanked him further backwards, making him stumble a few steps away from Ianto, who suddenly became aware of countless eyes on him. For the first time perhaps _ever_, everybody in the room was looking straight at him, and he was painfully aware of the disapproval in every burning stare.

Jack looked over at his lover as he was tugged – literally torn between his two lives – further away by a woman whose strength was astonishing when fuelled by fury. He looked lost, exposed, and as their gazes met again, heartbroken. It was enough to drag Jack from his helpless trance and he relaxed his shoulders, allowing the beloved jacket his aunt was so brusquely pulling to fall free of his body. He heard her screech his name in vexation but only continued to stride back towards the man he loved, taking a moment to absorb the myriad of emotions in those depthless baby-blue eyes before cupping a flushed cheek with one palm, and kissing him on the lips.

For a moment, Ianto was unable to quite force his own mouth to respond, but then Jack's arms were curling around his shoulders, holding him flush to his own body, and the chorus of gasps in the room went completely unheard. The deep, desperate caress tasted of home; not of second chances but new beginnings. Heat exploded between them, feeding an undeniable addiction that was almost debilitating in its intensity. Jack whimpered breathlessly and Ianto moaned in response, entangling his tongue with that of his lover in a well-practised dance until he burned to crawl _inside_ Jack.

The commotion surrounding them sliced through their safe warm bubble all too soon and the connection was broken, causing them to cling even more desperately to one another as they opened their eyes to the fruits of their recklessness.

Ianto glanced over Jack's shoulder and saw Martha Jones openly crying and stamping her feet with rage. Dame Francine looked as though she was suffering a stroke, and Alice Harkness was preparing to charge like a livid bull.

"Need me to do any attacking, sir?" he murmured, unable to stop himself from smiling as Jack's hands flexed against his back.

"Appreciate the offer" he replied into the short, silken hair above Ianto's ear, "but I'm thinking this might be the time to make a swift exit..."

As he watched, several people flounced out of the hall and several more stormed over to where Alice, Francine and Martha were gathered, thankfully blocking the former from descending upon them for a few moments more. Jack was surprised to see a few shy smiles thrown his way from people he didn't know and two members of staff, perhaps similarly trapped by the constraints of society. The most surprising nod of approval came from Owen Harper, to whom Jack replied with a cautious inclination of his own head.

"Ready?" he whispered, slowly releasing Ianto from his embrace and taking one of his hands in his, knotting their fingers tightly.

"Absolutely" Ianto replied and, with absolutely no grace, they dashed across the hall, the crowd parting as if one entity as they flew through the grand double doors and into the cool night air beyond. Screams of ire that Jack recognised as belonging to his aunt followed them, and he simply laughed. It was a laugh of complete and joyous freedom, and Ianto kissed him hard as he was possessed by a kind of high previously unreached.

"You're mad" he whispered into Jack's mouth, and his lover laughed again.

"But you love me" he beamed, and Ianto couldn't deny it. "Are you alright?"

"No broken bones; slight loss of dignity" the younger man nodded, too lost in a whirlwind of adrenaline to make sense of his own feelings just yet.

"Welcome to my world!" Jack declared, before a polite cough interrupted them. A young, male member of staff appeared from behind Jack and pressed his car key into his hand, smiling nervously at them both.

"Your luggage has been placed into the car as requested, sir" he said, pointing towards the vehicle which lay in wait for their departure.

"Thank you" Jack replied, adding a wink for good measure. The young man flushed and moved to walk back towards the house before hesitating.

"The two of you... you're an inspiration, sirs" he said quietly, and was rushing into the Manor before either could respond. Ianto huffed out an incredulous laugh and Jack squeezed his hand.

"Come on" he prompted, and they bundled into the car in a blur of energy.

The wind washed over Ianto's face as they began the drive back towards the city and he allowed his head to fall back, eyes closed and enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of escape. Was this how Jack felt, every time Ianto saved him from an unpleasant fate? He could get used to the rush...

"Don't you want to know where we're going, Ianto?" Jack asked, still grinning so broadly that his cheeks were beginning to ache. He'd made the calls to book the ferry already, blindly hoping that Ianto might wish to join him. His only concern was that the young man would be loathe to leave his home country, but maybe, just maybe he wouldn't care provided they were making the journey together.

"Not especially" Ianto replied, sliding his hand over the the curve of Jack's knee and squeezing. A prickling sensation flooded Jack's body spreading from that same spot, and he knew that trust had been restored. Risking a glance away from the road he found a level serenity and calm in the face of his lover that he'd never before seen, and while the desire to slam down on the breaks and kiss him until neither of them could breathe was enormously powerful, he simply slung his arm around Ianto's shoulders and pulled him close instead, his hand resting over his lover's heart.

"We can go anywhere we want, you and me" he announced, knowing without a doubt that there would be stumbling blocks along the way, but equally sure that thanks to their combined stubbornness, they could overcome it all. "Thank you, Jones. Thank you for this."

"Not at all, sir. Thank _you_" Ianto replied, his warm breath brushing Jack's temple as he released a sigh of absolute relief. Jack relished the curve of his lover's smile against his skin and pressed his foot more firmly against the accelerator, saying his silent goodbyes to all he was leaving behind as the car was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the hills.

* * *

Well, there we are. Exactly forty weeks, over 156,000 words, and it's finally finished. I seriously thought at the beginning that this would be a short bit of fluff to get a bit of practice writing in, but the reason this has lasted so long is thanks to my amazing readers and reviewers encouraging me at every turn. The sheer volume of views I get every week is insane, and I'm still grateful to all of you who read silently. It's encouraging just to know it's read so widely, even without the same level of feedback.

I want to give a special thank you to the handful of people who were supporting me even before I began this story (you know who you are) and have continued to do so, to everyone who's ever taken the trouble to review, and to the ones who've told me that they've started reading or watching Jeeves and Wooster as a result of my scribblings. You have no idea how special that makes me feel!

As for the future, there will definitely be sequels to this because I'm not prepared to give up my lovely Wodewood Universe and as you can already tell, there are going to be questions to answer. I'll also be starting a new AU inspired by another BBC show soon enough, and it'll probably be posted in the M-rated section, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested. The Jones and Harkness art I mentioned a couple of chapters ago doesn't appear to be finished yet, but once it is I'll link to it (the difficult way, because this is FFnet after all) in a sequel/in my profile for everybody to see.

Okay, I think that's enough waffling. There are only so many ways to say thank you, but honestly, this has been such a wonderful venture and I'm so much more confident in my writing just as a result of all the awesome messages I've had. Hopefully I'll keep on improving.

You're all ace.

Furious Dee X


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